


Reset

by MarmeLady_Orange



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe Differs A Bit From Canon, Bad Ideas, Brotherly Banter, Brotherly Bonding, Canon-Typical Destiel UST, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Loves Fries, Castiel's powers are limited, Dean and Castiel Talk a Lot, Dean’s Flirting Attempts Fail, Demonic Possession, Dreamwalkers, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Grumpy Dean Winchester, Guilt, Hangover, Language, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mentions of Men of Letters, Minor Character Death, Motherhood, Nature Television Show, Pool hustling, Post-Canon, Profound Bond, Road Trip, Roughhousing, Sacrifice, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit, Sassy Castiel, Visiting an Alternate Universe set in 1986, different timeline, incriminating pictures, stealing cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarmeLady_Orange/pseuds/MarmeLady_Orange
Summary: In the near future, the Archangel Michael is ancient history, Dean is his old self again, and everyone has gone back to their own world.Late one evening, knocks are heard at the bunker’s door. On the other side, Dean and Sam find much, much younger versions of themselves holding a duffle bag and a letter from John Winchester.Now it’s up to Team Free Will to send the kids back where they come from. If they don’t, their world is doomed to know the same fate as the one in which the Winchesters brothers were never born.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the day has come, this little Team Free Will fic sees the light of day.
> 
> First off, I need to thank my oh-so-wonderful beta, [outofminutes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/outofminutes/pseuds/outofminutes). She’s so good to me, and patient. And she does a marvelous job every dang time, I couldn’t be happier. I’m a lucky, lucky little writer! <3
> 
> Then, I struck gold again to be paired up with [Impalartsociopath](http://impalartsociopath.tumblr.com). Just you wait and see how awesome his drawings are, then you try and convince me I’m not lucky! If you’re too curious, please, click [HERE](http://impalartsociopath.tumblr.com/post/177530525225/reset-masterpost) to see the artwork before reading. The words and I will be right here waiting for you to come back. (I’ll just wait here, then)
> 
> About the story… even though I, like a lot of you, consider John Winchester to be a very inadequate parent, I decided not to focus on that. We know it, they know it, but John doesn’t really have a pivotal role in this story. Well, he kinda does, but we don’t really see him. It’s more about how other people might view him. In that regard, I do think it may be a tiny bit canon.
> 
> All right, I’ll let you go and read now. Wouldn’t wanna spoil anything to you by mistake. I really hope you’ll like it, despite the lack of sexy. I do think it’s kind of funny at times, so that might tickle your fancy, who knows. (No worries, there’s also plenty of sad and hurt and just plain angst… you get a feeling, and you get a feeling, and everyone gets a FEELING!)
> 
> Ahem… I’m done… have a very nice reading and don’t hesitate to share your thoughts, I’d love to read 'em! :D
> 
> .

    
[Impalartsociopath](http://impalartsociopath.tumblr.com/post/177530525225/reset-masterpost)

 

It’s late one evening when loud knocks resonate on the bunker’s main door. Sitting in the war room, Dean and Sam’s gazes meet before swerving to the top of the stairs.

“We waitin’ for someone?” Dean asks.

“Nope.”

As one, the men get up to climb the stairs, both with their gun in hand. Dean signals silently for Sam to stay back as he opens the inside door. When he goes to open the one leading outside, he holds his gun at eye level, ready to shoot. Except when he does open it, it is to see no one waiting for them on the other side. Until a throat clearing sound makes Sam and Dean look downward.

The sight that awaits them is enough to knock the air out of their lungs; there, on the doorstep, are standing two little boys holding hands, a duffel bag at their feet. The sight in itself is enough to be a surprising one, but the fact that said kids are younger versions of Dean and Sam Winchester is what makes it extra special. Sam, not looking older than three years old, looks up to appraise the strangers looking back at them and starts wailing.

“What the hell?” Dean breathes as his eyes catch a movement further away; he’d recognize that silhouette anywhere. He dashes out to catch up to it, not paying attention to the screaming child anymore. He hears Sam call after him, but it’s not enough to stop him from running.

“Dad!” he yells.

John Winchester doesn’t stop, accelerating his pace instead.

“Dad, for fuck’s sake! Wait up!”

Dean almost trips on his own feet when he sees the thin spear of orange light on the side of the road; a damn rift to another world. A young woman is standing next to it, waiting for John to join her. When he does, he grabs her hand before finally turning around. Dean’s heart skips a beat at the sight of his father being this young again. Broken, without the shadow of a doubt, but definitely younger. If the kids’ ages are anything to go by, the John preparing to go back where he came from is only a couple of years older than he was when he lost his wife.

“Dad?” Dean repeats, taking a tentative step forward. “What’s going on? How did you get here?” He glances at the young woman. “And who’s the chick?”

“You gotta take care of ’em, okay? Keep ’em safe,” John says in lieu of responding, never once meeting Dean’s eyes. “I gotta go. Dean’s got a letter for you, it explains everything.”

“Dad—”

John doesn’t wait, pulling the girl behind him to enter the rift. Dean tries to catch up to them, but the opening closes as soon as they disappear through it.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells when he finds himself alone. He kicks the dirt with his boot before turning around to go back to the bunker. When he enters, Sam and the kids aren’t in the war room anymore. They’re not in the library either, which leaves a single logical choice.

As he’d expected, Dean finds them in the kitchen. The children are sitting on a single chair, a much calmer Sammy huddled against his older brother. Jack is also at the table, the three of them eating chocolate chip cookies and sipping on milk. Sam has a frown on his face, leaning against the counter as he keeps a troubled eye on them.

Finding his brother looking this uncomfortable almost makes Dean laugh… almost.

Instead, he goes to grab himself a beer, only to abort the gesture when he spots Little Dean’s scrunched brows as he looks at him. It’s all he needs to remember how he had understood pretty early on what beer and other adult drinks did to his father and how scary a drunk John could be.

He sighs as he closes the fridge to go to the percolator instead. It’s a bit late for caffeine, but he doesn’t mind so much. It’s not like he’ll be able to sleep tonight anyway. As he waits for the coffee to brew, Sam moves closer, leaning toward him as he speaks in a hush.

“Did you catch up with him? It was Dad, right?”

“Yeah… got here through a rift. Disappeared back into it before I could catch up to him.”

“Surprised you didn’t follow him,” Sam says, a bitter undernote to his tone. He’s still not really over Dean leaving him behind to cross universes with Ketch not that long ago.

Dean purses his lips. “Believe me, I wanted to… it closed before I could reach it. Think he may have had a dreamwalker with him.” He turns to look at the kids again, but only for a second. Seeing himself and his brother this way kind of makes his stomach turn.

“So… we don’t know why they’re here?” Sam asks, him too keeping his gaze averted.

“Dad said Lil’ Dean’s got a letter for us.”

The boy, who apparently had been hearing them just fine, leaves his brother’s side to go through the duffel they had brought in. “I do,” he confirms as he rummages through the bag. He soon pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and comes to hand it to them. He looks up, observing them through squinted eyes.

“How is Sammy the tall one? He’s the baby, ain’t he? And what’s with the hair? He looks like a girl… Dad wouldn’t like that.”

Dean chuckles as he takes the letter and unfolds it. “He’s a freak, that’s why,” he says with a crooked smile.

“I knew you always were a jerk, but this is ridiculous,” Sam murmurs when the kid has gone back to sit next to his baby brother.

“I’d say I’m consistent,” Dean offers back in a similar manner. “Now shut up, I’m trying to read.”

Sam complies, only to look over his brother’s shoulder so he can read too.

 _Dean, Sam,_  
_As you probably realized by now, the kids are you, only younger. I found a dreamwalker who helped me find this universe. One where my boys are heroes and made their world a nice enough place. I need my kids to be safe, and I think the best way to do this is to leave them with you. Once I’ve killed the monster responsible for their mother’s death, I’ll come and get them back. If I can’t, then at least I’ll die in peace knowing my children are taken care of._ _  
_ John

“Dad’s an idiot,” Sam spits when he’s done reading. “What in the world could make him believe it’s any safer here?”

“That chick he was with, apparently.” Dean looks up at his brother. “Or maybe they ended up in the wrong universe. I mean… there has to be some that are much better than this one. That must have been where they wanted to go.”

A fit of laughter pulls their attention back to the kids, both of them, highly amused by whatever Jack has been saying to them. There are no more cookies to eat or milk to drink, and there’s no way Dean and Sam really can start strategizing with the children in the room. It only takes a couple of glances for the brothers to figure out how to handle this.

“Say, Jack… whaddaya say you and the boys go watch cartoons in the TV room?” Dean says before addressing the kids themselves, hoping his smile looks genuine enough to fool them. “Jack here loves cartoons. You guys love them too, don’t you?”

If Little Sam looks a bit frazzled by Dean, Little Dean puts on a brave face and nods. “We do. Can we watch Scooby-Doo? Do you have that here?”

“We do. Don’t we, Sammy? We got Scooby-Doo here, right?” He turns only so he can enjoy the pinched expression he knew would be on his brother’s face. He winks at him before turning back to the kids. “You’ll try and find Scooby-Doo for them, won’t you, Jack?”

“If I don’t find it, there’s a whole lot of other fun cartoons to watch.” He gets up to stand near the kids as he talks to them. “It’s my favorite kind of TV.”

It doesn’t take more than that for the kids to also get on their feet and follow Jack out of the kitchen.

“What the hell are we gonna do, Dean? We can’t take care of them.”

“What else are we gonna go, Sam? Wanna drop ’em off at a fire station or on a church stoop?”

Sam huffs, brushing the hair out of his face. “Of course not. What we need to do is send them back where they came from.”

“And how are we gonna do that, huh?”

“We know how to create a rift, Dean. We got all we need to—”

“No way! Dad asked us to take care of them, and that’s what we’ll do.”

It’s not the first time the brothers butt heads about something John Winchester would have asked them to do. They just didn’t think it would ever happen again and, quite frankly, neither one of them really want to be doing this again.

“I think we should call Cas… and Mom… we gotta call Mom,” Dean says, suddenly worried about how Mary might react to the news.

Sam nods, as he leans away from the counter to take a couple of steps toward the hall. “Yeah, you should definitely do that. As for me, I’ll go to the store before it closes and buy some kid-friendly foods.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are you gonna tell Mom?”

“Nothing,” is the first thing that passes Dean’s lips. “I’ll tell her to come back, but there’s no way I’m telling her why over the phone.”


	2. Chapter 2

Because it’s easier to call Castiel than it is to call Mary, this is what Dean does first. As usual, the angel has found himself something to do away from the bunker and Dean can’t help sounding bitter when he leaves him a voicemail.

Mostly, that means he gets to talk to his mother much sooner than he’d hoped. She’s the one person he would have preferred to leave a message for, but he rarely gets what he wants.

“Hey, Dean,” she answers, her voice a bit strained.

“Hi, Mom… you okay?”

“I am, don’t worry. Just sliced and diced a small nest of vamps. Taking a breather before getting back on the road. How’s everything?”

Dean can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. “How far from the bunker are you?”

“About three hours, why? Is everything okay?”

“I know it’s kinda late, but do you think you could stop by on your way to wherever? We gotta talk.”

“You can talk to me now, Dean, I’m all ears.”

“No, Mom… you really should be here. Like… as soon as you can.”

When Mary speaks again, there’s a growl in her voice. “What’s going on? Is Sammy—”

“We’re good, Mom, I swear. It’s just that you gotta see something, all right? It’s real important.”

“Show me on your phone then, if it’s that important.”

Mary’s words leave a sour taste in Dean’s mouth. “So what? You don’t wanna come by?”

“Of course I do,” she counters, sounding annoyed now. “But now you got me worried and I don’t wanna have to wait three hours before I get to know what’s going on. You feel me?”

“I do, but… just get here and then we’ll talk, all right? I promise, it’s better this way.”

Without another word, Dean hangs up. Only a couple of seconds later, his phone chimes with a text alert: ‘On my way’ is all it says. Knowing his mother, if she said she was three hours away, it means that she’ll probably get to the bunker in about two and a half hours.

With the kids watching cartoons with Jack, Dean decides now is the best time to have himself a well-deserved drink. He forgoes the beer in the fridge in favor of a couple of fingers of _Maker’s Mark_. He’s sitting at the table with his feet propped on it when he hears the front door open. Figuring it’s Sam coming back from the grocery store, he just waits for him to come into the kitchen.

Except it’s not Sam who soon joins him, but Castiel.

“I was on my way here when you called. Is everything okay? Where’s Sam? And Jack?”

Instead of answering, Dean gets up to pour Castiel a glass of the whiskey and puts it on the table along with John’s letter. Castiel squints at Dean but still comes to sit with him. He doesn’t take the glass, going for the letter instead.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Read it.”

Castiel complies, looking increasingly perplexed as he does. Once done, he sends Dean an alarmed look as questions tumble from his mouth.

“The children are here? In the bunker? What about John? Does Mary know?”

“The kids are with Jack in the TV room, watching cartoons. Dad dropped them off then went back through a rift – it’s closed by the way. And no, I didn’t tell Mom. I mean, I called and asked her to come back here, but I didn’t tell her why.”

“You remember what Mary said about the apocalyptic world, right? It’s a world in which you and your brother were never born.” He shakes his head at Dean who rolls his eyes. “If the children don’t go back to their own universe, I’m afraid the same fate awaits it.”

“Maybe, but they were born in that universe, Cas. Dad just sent them away for a little vacation, is all.”

Castiel leans forward, making sure Dean’s eyes are locked with his. “You and Sam are the reason the apocalypse didn’t happen, Dean. They have to be there for it to happen that way again.”

“They’ll be there, Cas. Dad will come and get them back after he’s killed Azazel.”

The demon’s name makes Castiel purse his lips. “What if he fails and never comes back? You know this means their universe will be doomed, right?”

Dean decides not to answer when he hears the front door slamming shut again. It can’t be Mary, it’s way too soon, so it has to be Sam this time. He waits for his brother to join them, hoping he will have seen the light while he was out. Maybe he’ll even help him explain to Cas how they need to keep the kids around for a little while.

“Hi, Cas,” Sam says when he walks in to drop a couple of grocery bags on the island near the fridge.

Dean gets up to look in the bags and scoffs at his brother’s choices of kid-friendly food; there’s too much green in there, there’s no way they’ll want to eat this crap. Still, he says nothing… there are other battles to be fought right now.

Sam, who had been keeping his eyes on Dean, looks back at Castiel. “Did Dean tell you about what’s been happening?”

“He told me, yes. I trust that you know this is not a good thing, yes?”

“Yeah, kinda got that,” Sam says, somewhat relieved. “Wherever they came from, this place will no doubt go to shit if we don’t send them back.”

Castiel turns to glare at Dean. “This is what I’ve been trying to explain to your brother. He disagrees, apparently.”

“I’m not saying they should stay here forever, but Dad said he’d come get them back. It’s temporary.”

Sam pauses putting away the groceries to wave a loaf of sliced bread at Dean. “What if he doesn’t come back, huh? How long should we be waiting? A week? A year? Ten years? How old were we when Dad finally got a real lead on Yellow Eyes, huh?”

“Now that he doesn’t have us to think about, he’ll find him much faster.”

“Or he’ll die sooner. And we won’t even know about it. We gotta send them back, Dean, sooner rather than later,” Sam says, pleading now. “They got people to take care of them over there. I mean, there’s Bobby, for starters…”

“Your brother’s right, Dean. The longer they stay here, the worse it might get in their universe. The second they realize Sam and Dean Winchester don’t exist in this reality, the angels will put plan B in motion.”

Dean raises a single eyebrow at him. “And what’s plan B?”

Castiel shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s one that leads to a successful apocalypse.”

“So you don’t know shit is what you’re telling me,” Dean says, now standing much closer to the angel, trying to stare him down. He even goes as far as pointing a finger in Castiel’s face as he speaks. “Maybe what’s happening now is what’s gonna make their universe the best of them all. The one without us in it is shit, the one with us is shit… maybe this is the middle ground they need.”

Castiel glares at the finger then at Dean before he bats the hand away. “I’ll consider agreeing with you on one condition.”

“Ah yeah? And what’s that?”

Sam and Castiel share a short glance and a nod before the angel looks back at Dean. “We need to set a time limit. Let’s decide right now when we’ll have waited long enough for John Winchester to return.”

“I agree with you,” Sam says, “but how do you want us to determine this, Cas? There’s no way we can know how long Dad will take to catch up with Azazel.”

When Castiel speaks again, his tone of voice is soft, almost cajoling.

“Dean, you’re the only one who might remember what your father was doing around the ages the kids are now. This and his journal should probably help. Do you think you’d be able to determine how long it will take your father to find the demon?”

“I don’t know, man… t’was a long time ago.”

The three turn to the kitchen’s entrance when they hear someone clear their throat. Jack is standing in the doorframe, a worried look on his face. “Is everything okay? I could hear you yelling all the way to the TV room.”

“Where are the kids?” Sam asks, worried they too could have heard them.

“In the room. They fell asleep,” Jack says. “Do you want to leave them there or—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dean says, glad to have a reason to stop arguing with his brother and his best friend. “I’ll put them in the room next to mine. Is everyone okay with this?”

Both Sam and Castiel nod, following silently when Dean leaves the kitchen to go get the kids. Like Jack had said, they are sleeping. They’re sprawled together in the same armchair, Little Dean wrapped in a protective manner around his baby brother.

There’s a pinch in Dean’s heart at the sight. He remembers doing the very same thing at that age, making sure at seven years old that his three-year-old brother felt safe and warm. He rubs at his eyes so they’ll stop itching and walks to the chair, thinking of a way to transfer the kids without waking them up.

It’s not an easy feat, but Dean manages to grab Little Sammy without waking Little Dean up. Sam comes to take the older child and they make their way to the room in silence, Jack and Castiel following close behind.

The second the children are set on the bed, they find each other like magnets. Dean drapes a blanket over them and lets out a relieved sigh; so far, so good.

Castiel’s voice is low when he speaks, making sure to catch Dean’s eyes as he does.

“You and your brother go to bed, Dean… I’ll be watching over them.”


	3. Chapter 3

Without a single word, Dean pulls Castiel out into the hallway. Sam and Jack follow them, with Sam closing the door just enough to leave it ajar.

“If they wake up and see you there, they’ll go berserk, Cas. They don’t know you,” Dean says in a low voice. “And I’m sure Lil’ Dean’s gonna go and try to kill you or something.”

Castiel squints at him. “I’m an angel, Dean. I doubt a child, even a child Dean Winchester, would be able to hurt me.”

“What Dean means is that waking up in a strange room with a strange man next to them might scare them off,” Sam explains. “They’re just kids, you know?”

“I don’t really sleep, I can watch over them. They know me,” Jack says before turning to Castiel. “What does looking over sleeping children require?”

Dean is tempted to smile when he spots the hint of pride in Castiel’s eyes.

“Nothing more than staying there and making sure they’re safe.” Castiel glances at Sam, then at Dean. “As an angel, I can also help keep the nightmares at bay. It helps the humans get a more restful sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Jack says, now looking concerned. “What if they get nightmares and I can’t help?”

“People get nightmares, Jack. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Dean says, gently patting the nephilim on the shoulder. “I’m right in the next room so you guys don’t need to watch over them. I don’t think I’ll sleep all that much anyway, so if they need anything, I’ll be right there to help.”

Castiel and Jack share a quick look, then nod. “If you think it’s best,” Castiel says. “We’ll be in the library if you need us.”

Dean watches as the angel and nephilim walk away without another word.

“We still didn’t determine a reasonable waiting period,” Sam says when they have disappeared at the end of the hall. “You know we’ll have to send them back whether Dad returns or not, right?”

“I know…” Dean admits, scratching at his stubbled jaw. “Let’s just take the night to think it over, all right? We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine. Good night, Dean.”

Dean just waves at his brother as he leaves. Instead of going to his own room right away, Dean opens the children’s door the peer inside the room. They haven’t moved an inch, still wrapped around each other under the covers. Dean sighs, leaving the door open before going to his own room. He also leaves his door open, if only to make sure he’ll hear the kids if they start making noise.

It takes a couple of hours to something to be heard. Dean has dozed off because Little Sam screaming bloody murder – Dean would recognize that sound anywhere – startles him awake.

He runs to the other room to see the older child trying to calm the younger one down, but it only seems to be aggravating Little Sam more. Without a second thought, Dean goes to take the crying kid in his arms who just wraps his little arms around his neck.

Little Sam hiding his face in Dean’s shoulder is enough to make the man’s heart swell. God, he loves that kid.

“It’s okay, Sammy… I’ve got you,” he says in a soothing voice as he gently rocks him and rubs his back.

He regrets speaking when Little Sam goes still in his arms. He leans back to look at Dean, now with unadulterated fear in his eyes. Then he starts wailing again.

“What’s going on?” Dean hears Sam say as he rushes into the room, which makes Little Sam cry even harder… if such a thing is possible, that is.

“He wet the bed,” Little Dean supplies. “And he wants Daddy.”

Dean can’t help the purse in his lips when he notices how Little Sam’s bottom is actually wet. How did he not notice that?

“I’ll take him,” Jack says when he joins them in the room with Castiel on his heels. Dean lets Little Sammy go and tries not to feel too dejected when one look at Jack’s face is enough to calm the kid down as he hides his face in his neck.

“We’ll change the bed,” Sam says as he helps Little Dean get off of it.

“Allow me.”

Before Sam can start pulling the sheets off, Castiel has already used his mojo to clean the bed. “It’s as good as new.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says, then turns to Little Dean. “Would you like to put on your pajamas now? Do you have pajamas in your bag?” But the kid isn’t listening to him, keeping a suspicious gaze on Castiel instead, looking ready to attack.

“How did you do that? You a witch?”

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Castiel provides as he extends a hand for Little Dean to shake. “My name is Castiel. Glad to meet you, Dean.”

Little Dean takes a step back, not looking anymore trusting when he looks up at his older counterpart. “Dad says there’s no such thing as angels. What kind of monster is he?”

Dean squats down to be at eye level with the child. “Dad just doesn’t know, but they do exist. Castiel is telling you the truth, he’s an angel. Not all angels are nice, but he is. He’s family.”

Little Dean glances at Castiel again, then back at Dean. “I remember Mom telling me angels watched over me. Was she talking about him?”

The thought makes Dean chuckle. “You know, I like to think that she was, yeah.”

Castiel comes to squat next to Dean. “I don’t think she was talking about me specifically, but she was right to say angels watched over you, Dean,” he says, making sure to be looking the child in the eye. “You and your brother, you’re special… important.”

The intensity becomes a bit much for Dean who just harrumphs and gets upright again, hating how the tip of his ears feel warm. It’s just as well because Sam is now holding out pajamas for the kids.

“Dean? You need help?”

Little Dean rolls his eyes and snatches the clothes from Sam’s hands. “I can fire a shotgun, I think I can put on my own PJs,” he says before also taking Little Sam’s clothes. “Sammy needs help, though. Plus, he peed his pants.”

When Jack puts a much calmer Little Sam down, Little Dean turns him around to see his brother’s pants are clean and dry. He looks up at Castiel. “You did that thing to him too? How? You weren’t even close to him.”

“I did,” Jack provides, beaming with pride. “My father’s an angel, so I can do things too.”

Squinting, Little Dean looks a Jack, then at Castiel, then at Jack again. “Oh… so this guy’s your dad, huh? You kinda look like him. And where’s your mom? Is she an angel too?”

“She was human. She died when I was born,” Jack says, grief now clouding his features.

Having been helping Little Sammy in his PJs, Little Dean’s movements still. The men in the room can see his bottom lip trembling, but they say nothing. After a beat, Little Dean resumes his task, gloomier than he was before.

“Our mom died, too. In a fire. Dad says it was a monster that did it.”

“It was a demon,” Dean says. “You’ll be glad to know that I killed it myself. Years ago.”

It’s all it takes for Little Dean to perk up, looking back at Dean with his eyes wide and shiny. “You did? You gotta tell Dad! He thinks the monster is still—”

“I killed Azazel in my world, kid. The one in yours is still alive and running around doing his demon thing.”

“Oh…” Little Dean looks defeated again as he finishes buttoning his little brother’s pajama top. “You’re good, Sammy. Go back to bed, all right?”

Little Sammy obeys, making sure to stay clear of everyone else in the room as he goes to burrow himself under the covers. Little Dean goes to undo his jeans, but stops and huffs, looking up at everyone. “Can you leave now? I don’t like to change with people looking at me.”

“Yeah, for sure… hum… maybe we should show you where the bathroom is?” Sam sputters while Castiel and Jack leave the room to give the boy privacy.

“Come, I’ll show you,” Dean offers. “Sammy can stay with his mini-me.”

Both Deans walk out of the room, not having to go very far before the adult opens a non-descript door. “Here it is. There’s another one the other way, but this one is closer.”

“Great. Can I use it now?” And although he asked, Little Dean doesn’t wait and goes in, making sure to lock the door behind him.

He doesn’t take long, soon coming out to lead the way back to his room. He’s right about to walk into it when he stops and gasps.

At the end of the hall just appeared Mary Winchester. The bag she’s been carrying falls to the floor with a loud thump as she takes support on the wall to stay upright. Her eyes are wide and her jaw is slack as she tries to make sense of what she’s seeing.

It seems to take forever, but when she’s able to speak, a single word falls from her lips.

“Dean?”

While she falls to her knees, Little Dean lets out a trembling “Mommy” as he runs to fling himself into her open arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Hearing Little Dean crying loudly is what draws Little Sam out of bed. He peers out into the hall to see his older brother wrapped up in a strange woman’s arms. He looks up at Sam who squats down after wiping a stray tear from his own face.

“That’s your mommy, kid. You don’t remember her, but she remembers you, and she loves you very much.”

The expression on the child’s face is a mix of suspicion, fear, and sadness. His big brother never cries so when he starts making his way toward him, it’s with prudent determination.

“Sammy, baby,” Mary says when she spots the second child, also older than he should be since the last time she ever got to hold him in her arms. The sound of his mother’s voice seems to be enough for Little Sam to let himself be engulfed in her embrace. He starts crying again, this time letting the stranger hold and soothe him.

“Shhh, my babies, shhh… mommy’s here now, you’re here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Sam turns to see Dean looking just as messed up as he himself feels. He turns his attention back to the scene, trying to ignore the spark of jealousy the sight ignites in him. He huffs, hating how he’s feeling envious of his younger self. Since he can’t really help it, he decides he’d rather go back to bed than feel this way.

“Good night,” he mumbles, not caring that he gets no response.

As for Dean, he can’t tear his eyes away. He can’t move either, unsure of what to do. He only looks away when he notices a movement beyond Mary and the kids; Castiel and Jack are standing in the shadows, just as entranced by the scene.

It takes a moment for the crying to die down. “Did you put them in my room?” Mary asks as she rocks the boys, the three of them sitting on the floor.

Because Dean speaking seems to be an issue right now, it’s Castiel who answers as he walks past them toward the hunter. “Dean wanted to watch over them, so he gave them the room next to his.”

“Why not my room?” Mary asks, confused. “You had to know that I’d want to be with them, didn’t you?”

Dean shrugs, his hands deep in his jeans pockets. “Didn’t know when you’d be back, Mom. They would have been a bit far from me or Sam.”

Mary nods, now with a smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she says before kissing Little Dean’s forehead. He looks up at her and smiles, which is enough to make her eyes fill with tears again.

“I can’t believe I got my boys back,” she murmurs as more tears roll down her cheeks. She sucks in a trembling breath before sending Dean an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Dean… I know I got you and your brother back, it’s just—”

“Yeah, no… I get it, Mom. Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been averting his eyes or the purse in his lips, but Mary isn’t fooled. “It’s confusing, all right? I know you and Sam are my sons, even if you’re all grown up, but… I didn’t get to see you grow up and now—now they’re here and—”

“I get it,” Dean repeats, a little harsher now. He goes into the room the boys had been sharing to get their duffle bag and transfer it to Mary’s room. “You gonna be okay? Do you want me to bring another bed in there?”

“We’ll be good,” Mary says as she lets the children go to get to her feet. She takes Little Sammy in her arms and grabs Little Dean’s hand, coming to stand next to Dean. “We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow, all right? You’ll tell me how all of this happened and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

She gets on her tiptoes to kiss her oldest son on the cheek. “Good night, Dean. Good night Cas, Jack,” she says before bringing the children into the room and closing the door.

It takes a little while for Dean to realize he’s been standing there with his eyes fixated on the closed door. He tears his eyes away to notice Jack has left, but Castiel is still standing there, looking at him.

“Are you okay?” the angel asks when Dean’s gaze falls on him.

“Yeah… I mean… the kids got their mother back, Mom got her kids back… it’s a win-win.”

“For them, maybe, but not for you or Sam. Or am I mistaken?”

What comes out of Dean’s mouth is a chuckle. A bitter one, but a chuckle all the same. “What are you talkin’ about? Pretty sure we were just let out of babysitting duty… if that’s not a win, then I don’t know what is.”

Castiel taking a step into Dean’s personal space isn’t something new. Which is probably why Dean doesn’t mind as much as he once did. “You know what I’m talking about, Dean. Seems to me like you’re worried the children may take your mother’s love from you and your brother. It can’t be an easy prospect, seeing as you yourself only got her back after losing her a second time.”

As he takes a couple of steps toward his room, Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “The kids, they’re us, Cas. How pathetic would I be to be jealous of myself getting what I’ve always wanted? I mean, getting my mom back at that age? Second best thing that could have happened to me, right behind never losing her in the first place. So I can only be happy for them.”

It doesn’t matter that Dean considers this conversation done with by going into his room, Castiel makes sure he knows he has more to say by preventing him from closing the door as he follows him in.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t envy them,” he eventually says, not at all deterred by Dean glaring at him. “Whatever the bible says about it, I would believe envy should be a normal response to a situation such as this.”

“Look, Cas… I know you mean well and shit, but I really don’t think now’s the best time to do this. I’m fine, all right? Mostly, it’s fucking weird and I think everything’s gonna be much clearer after a good night’s sleep.”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Clearer for us humans, then. Sammy and I, we’re used to dealing with weird shit so we’re gonna figure it all out, all right?”

“I’m certain you will.”

Still, Castiel doesn’t leave the room, taking another step toward Dean instead.

“Huh… Cas? Kinda means I’ll be going to bed now, so, you know…” Dean makes a shooing motion at him, unsure of what could be on the angel’s mind. “No need to have you looking over me, I’m good,” he adds, in case he’s thinking about suggesting just that.

“I wouldn’t offer, I know you don’t appreciate that. I think you might have trouble falling asleep, though,” he explains as he comes closer, raising a hand toward Dean’s forehead. Deans scoffs at him, batting the hand away.

“No need for your sleep mojo either, Cas. I’ll manage just fine without it.”

“Very well.”

Again, Castiel doesn’t leave and opens his arms. “I believe a hug would be beneficial,” he says as he takes another step forward. This time, Dean lets it happen.

“All right, buddy… thanks,” he says as he returns the hug, ending it with a couple of strong claps on the angel’s back. “Everything’s gonna be fine, you’ll see,” he adds as he gets out of the embrace.

“I know,” Castiel confirms with that crooked smile of his. “I’ll let you get to bed. If you need anything, I’ll be in the library with Jack.”

As Castiel leaves the room, closing the door behind him, Dean sits on the bed to take his boots off. He might know he won’t be able to sleep – notwithstanding what he told Castiel – he still intends on spending the night remotely comfortable.

Another way to do that is to stop thinking, he decides as he grabs the bottle of Jack he’s been keeping next to his bed. He also takes the MP3 player from the bedside table and puts in the headphones, thumbing through the device’s menus to find the best playlist to get drunk to.

Soon, Robert Plant’s voice is loud in his ears and he sighs in ease, already starting to feel a little less on edge. The taste of whiskey on his tongue helps make things even better.

But not until he swallows the last drop does the buzzing under his skin stop as he falls into some kind of drunken slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

The atmosphere in the kitchen the next morning is part joyful, part miserable, mostly because Dean is still a bit drunk. It’s almost comforting to see his brother looking just as bad as he feels; his hair is all over the place and there are dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes.

“Long night?” Dean asks as he joins him at the coffee machine. Sam keeps his gaze on the cup he’s filling up before sliding it for Dean to take.

“Yup,” is all he answers before turning around to look at the table.

Mary is there, also with a steaming cup of coffee. The children are sitting with her, each with a bowl of cereal in front of them. If Little Sam is plowing through his breakfast with gusto, Little Dean doesn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off his mother, the Cheerios getting soggy in front of him.

“You should eat your breakfast, Baby,” Mary says as she gently pets the hair on her son’s head. “Then we’ll go play outside. What do you say? Would you like that?”

For the first time since her adult sons came into the room, Mary turns to them. “There has to be a playground close by, right? I think the kids would love to play outside. Wouldn’t think they did that in a long time… if ever!”

Dean glances at his brother and shrugs before looking back at his mother. “Don’t think I’ve seen one around Lebanon. My best guess would be Smith Center… it’s not too far from here, but you’ll still have to go by car.”

Sam scoffs. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the bunker, Mom,” he says, making Mary squint at him.

“Why not?”

“Really? You know what’s out there, Mom. We can’t put them in danger like that. Plus, I think we have more pressing things to do than play around on swings.”

“Sam—”

“No, Dean! You know I’m right. We still have to decide until when we’re gonna wait to send them back.”

“Whoa, what?” Mary says, shocked. “My kids aren’t going anywhere.”

While Sam chooses to stay silent, Dean can’t help himself. When he speaks, it’s in a soft voice, mostly because he knows she’ll hate what he has to say. “They’re not your kids, Mom. Not really. And Dad’s gonna be coming back for them.”

Neither Sam nor Dean have ever seen their mother angry. Not this angry, anyway.

“They are my kids, and nobody’s taking them away from me. Not now, and not ever!”

Her tone and words are enough to make Little Sam forget about his cereal, his chin now trembling. As for Little Dean, he too looks right about to cry when he gets up to go sit on his mother’s lap.

“You can’t go, Mommy,” he says, his voice trembling.

“I’m not going anywhere, Baby. Never again,” she promises, sending an irate gaze to Dean and Sam. “And when your daddy comes back for you, I will follow you and him wherever he wants us to go.”

“Mom…”

This time, Sam doesn’t even bother hiding the turmoil of emotions the thought of losing his mother puts him through. “So you’ll leave us? Again?”

“Sam…” Mary starts, but her voice breaks and she looks away from him as Little Sam comes to join his brother on their mother’s lap. She hugs them for a while, taking comfort in the little ones’ embrace before looking back at her older sons. “They need me… you don’t. Not like they do, anyway. I love you both dearly, but this is my only chance to finally be the mother I was meant to be. It’s my only chance to try and make things right.”

She smiles as she moves the kids around to kiss them on the forehead. “I need to see my children grow up, Sam. I need to see them become you.”

“She’s right, Sam,” Dean says. He may be agreeing with their mother, he still sounds defeated as he speaks.

Sam exhales and shakes his head. “I know she’s right… still… it’s just so… unfair.”

When Dean claps his brother’s back, there’s a crooked smile on his face. “When are things ever remotely fair for us, huh, Sammy? I mean, if these little guys can have the life we never had, I say we make sure it happens.”

“I know…” Sam looks at his mother again, feeling the bitterness starting to fade. “I still think it’d be safer for you guys to stay put.” He sighs. “But if you really wanna go to the park, I’d say like Dean: Smith Center’s your best bet.

Mary gives him a watery smile and nods, grateful. “See, boys? Seems there’s a playground for you in the next town. What do you say we finish breakfast, then we’ll get you dressed up and we’ll take a little drive? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The next second, the boys are back on their chairs and scarfing down the remainder of their cereal. As they do, Mary gets up to come and hug the older Sam and Dean.

“We’ll talk later about all of this, okay? I promise… I still need you to tell me everything you know.”

“We don’t know much more than what’s in this letter,” Dean provides as he hands her the piece of paper he’s been keeping in his back pocket.

“And why are you only showing this to me now?” she asks as she unfolds it and starts to read.

“Your focus was pretty much on getting the kids back last night,” Dean says. “There’s not that much in there anyway.”

“I agree.”

Mary folds the letter again to put it in her own pocket. Dean almost protests, seeing as the letter is addressed to him and Sam, but soon decides against it. If John had known Mary was here and alive, he probably would have sent the kids to her anyway.

“Come on, boys, let’s go get dressed. And then we’re off to the park.”

Without paying any mind to their older selves, the kids jump off their seats to run toward their room, followed closely by their mother. Once alone, Sam and Dean let their rigid stance fall a bit.

“I guess getting Mom back was never really in the cards, huh?” Dean says under his breath, glancing at his brother through his lashes. “Not our cards, anyway. Their cards, maybe.”

“You really think she’ll wanna follow Dad to the other world? Even with everything she knows now?”

Dean shrugs as he takes a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. “Well… seeing as she never really stopped hunting anyway, not even after they got married, I guess they’ll just start hunting together.”

“So the kids won’t be having a normal life anyway?”

“I don’t know, Sam… maybe. Maybe they’ll just be the occasional hunters without all the apocalyptic crap hanging over their heads. Maybe they won’t even get to start it this time.”

“Even though we were never born in that other world, there was still an apocalypse, Dean. Michael and Lucifer still found vessels to wear. There was somebody to start that shit up. If it’s not them they use, they’ll find someone else and—”

“Mary knows what’s expected of her sons. She has all the necessary knowledge to make it so it doesn’t happen, would it be with the Winchesters or not.”

The brothers turn to see Castiel coming into the room, Jack once more following closely. Since he’d been back, the kid would hardly ever leave Castiel’s side… when the angel was at the bunker, anyway. And Dean finds it cute enough for the corners of his mouth to curl up a bit.

“What do you think she can do against archangels, Cas? Or even regular angels,” Sam says. “She may be a great hunter, she’s still only human.”

“I could go to that world and kill Lucifer and Michael before—”

“No!” Castiel snaps, interrupting Jack. “We almost lost you to the other world, I will not have you or myself go through this again.”

“He’s right, Jack,” Sam says. “This is not your battle to fight.”

“It’s not yours either,” Jack replies, to which Castiel nods while Dean lifts a defiant chin at them.

“Isn’t it?” he says. “We’ve fought that fight already, we know how it ends. I say we cross over and end this once and for all.”

Sam scoffs at his brother. “You know that’s not a thing, right? Once and for all? Not for us, anyway.”

“I’ll go with you,” Castiel says, prompting both brothers to turn and look at him through squinted eyes.

“Go where?”

“To that other world, the one the boys came from. I’ll go with you.”

Dean takes a step forward to come and stand in front of Castiel. “Are you saying we should go and help my dad kill Azazel?”

“Honestly? No… I think it’s a very bad idea. Which is how I know this is exactly what you’ll want to do.”

“I say we do it,” Sam says. Dean turns to him, frowning.

“Are you sure? I mean… you heard Cas. It’s a very bad idea.”

Sam shrugs, his gaze going from Castiel to Dean as a crooked smile slowly appears on his face. “Might be a bad idea, it’s still the only good one we got.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I don’t see why I can’t go with you. You’re letting Little Dean go.”

“I’m not little,” Little Dean says, pouting.

Castiel stills his preparing everything they need to open the rift, looking up at Jack as he responds.

“Little Dean is not going, Jack. When I said we needed someone from this world to cross over, I meant this,” he explains as he drops a couple of Little Dean’s hair in the bowl.

“I’m not little!” Little Dean says again, much louder. Castiel turns to smile at him.

“Of course, you’re not little. It’s only to differentiate you from the grown-up version of you. How would you rather we call you?”

“Dean! You can call the other one Old Dean if you want, I don’t mind.”

Castiel chuckles, his attempt at patting the little one’s head rebuffed by his glaring and moving away.

“Very well… let’s call the adults Old Dean and Old Sam, then.”

“Not happening!” they hear Dean say as he joins them in the library. “Where’s Mom?” he asks as Sam walks in right behind him.

It’s Castiel who answers, this time keeping his attention on his work. “She went to put Little Sam to bed for his nap. She’ll be joining us as soon as he’s asleep.”

The brothers drop their bags on the table, Dean coming to stand next to Castiel. “You sure you wanna come with us? I mean, I’m not hot about leaving Mom alone with the kids like that.”

“They won’t be alone,” Castiel says as he looks up at Jack again. “Jack is more than capable of making sure they’re safe.” He turns to catch Dean’s gaze. “Plus, the rift will only be staying open for twenty-four hours, we won’t be gone all that long.”

“We talked about that, Cas. Twenty-four hours isn’t enough, which is why we’re bringing all we need to create another rift once we’re ready to come back.”

“From what I understood, we were to be trying not to be there more than a day.”

Dean shrugs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Of course, we’ll try, yeah… but we don’t even know where we’ll be landing. We’re not even sure when we’ll be landing.”

“You’re bringing your father’s journal, that should help us find him or Azazel quite easily.”

“Our dad never crossed universes, Cas,” Sam says right as Mary walks in the library. “There’s a big chance pretty much everything else will be different. Maybe the journal won’t help at all.”

Castiel looks up at Sam, then back at Dean. “So what are you saying? Should we not be crossing over? Are you starting to believe that this is indeed a very bad idea?”

Dean takes his bag and swings it over his shoulder. “It may be a crap idea, but it’s the only one we’ve got. So… you know… start that thing up, would you?” He turns to see his mother holding hands with Little Dean. 

The both of them have the same resolved look on their faces and it makes the little hairs on Dean’s neck stand up. He rubs at the back of his neck again, thinking back to all those times he’s been told he looked just like his mother. And now that he sees them side by side this way, it makes his heart flutter to realize how true that is.

“Let’s do this!” he says, clearing his throat as he turns around to go stand next to his brother while Castiel works his magic.

They’ve done this ritual often enough by now that nobody even flinches when a spear of orange light forms in the library. Without a parting word for Mary, Jack, or Little Dean, the three men walk into it to find a world that looks just like the one they’ve just left. Except for the fact that they’re somewhere in the woods without a clue of their exact location.

Knowing where they are is the most pressing thing right now. Dean and Sam take out their phones to see that they’ll be of no use; they have no bars.

“I believe we’re still in Kansas. Near Lawrence, I think,” Castiel announces after taking a minute to look around them.

“What? Did you swallow a GPS?” Dean says, chuckling. He knows Castiel can sense and recognize his exact location, he still had been meaning to say that for a while now. And it felt like the right time.

“I’m an angel, Dean. GPS is standard equipment,” he replies, both Sam and Dean chuckling as they follow him.

When they come out of the woods, it’s to find themselves walking on the grounds of some big house. No… more like a mansion with manicured lawns and a humongous pool. They don’t have time to look around much before two barking Dobermans appear around the corner of the house to chase after them.

“Run!” Dean screams as he grabs the gun from the back of his jeans. It’s not like he wants to start shooting dogs, but he will if he has to. Doesn’t matter that they are only doing what they’ve been trained to do.

Dean is the first to reach the high fence surrounding the property. He’s about to start climbing when he realizes he can’t hear the dogs anymore. Also, Sam and Castiel aren’t right behind him.

“Sam?” he calls as he turns around to see his brother and their friend walking toward him rather than running. The dogs are lying on the ground, unmoving. When Castiel and Sam join him, he points at the animals. “What happened to them?”

“They’re asleep,” Castiel only says as he starts climbing the fence. Dean and Sam do the same and soon, they’re dropping to the ground on the other side.

“Hey! You!” they hear. Dean and Sam’s hands go to the back of their jeans while Castiel takes a step toward the man who called out to them.

“I’m sorry, sir. My friends and I got lost in the woods and we ended up on your property,” Castiel says as he goes to stand before him. “We’re in Lawrence, Kansas, yes?”

The man, a gardener by the looks of it, gives Castiel a distrustful look. “Yeah… Lawrence is right. I just work here, though. You might wanna go or else I’ll have to call the cops on you.” He looks beyond the fence to see the dogs lying on the ground. “What did you do to the dogs?” he asks, taking a step back as he sends a hand to the walkie-talkie clipped on his hip.

“They’re asleep, not to worry. They should wake up soon. We’ll be leaving now,” Castiel says as he walks past the gardener. Sam and Dean follow after him, giving the gardener a polite nod as they cross paths with him.

They reach the road in no time, not encountering a single passing car until they get to a crossroads about ten minutes later. They keep walking without even trying to hitch a ride, very well knowing that not many people would stop for three big guys hitchhiking together. And anyway, they’ve reached a residential area, so hitching a ride is even less likely.

Dean can’t say for sure where in Lawrence they are, but he knows they should be finding a diner or gas station before long. Any place that would help them know the date and where they can use a phone is all they need.

They encounter a gas station first, one that’s right next to a grocery store. Between the two, a couple of payphones. Sam goes to check out the date on the newspapers in the gas station while Dean and Castiel walk to the phones.

“Haven’t used those in a while,” Dean says as they stop next to them.

“I have,” Castiel says, but doesn’t elaborate, Dean giving him a small nod back before snapping his fingers.

“We’re gonna need change for those… do you have quarters?” he says, already going through his own pockets to find some, without success. Castiel’s exploration garners the same result. He’s about to turn back to go to the gas station when they spot Sam already coming back, a newspaper in hand.

“Bought one… figured we’d need some quarters for the phone,” he says, dropping three of them in Dean’s awaiting hand. “According to the newspaper, we got here around the time Dad was when he dropped the kids off. Today’s Thursday, May 15, 1986. Works out with the kids’ ages.”

“Great… so? Who should we be calling?” Dean asks, not so sure what they should be doing anymore. “I mean… there’s always Bobby, I guess. Maybe he could come and pick us up.”

“Dean, you know Bobby, he’s not gonna come pick-up some random guys saying they’re John Winchester’s kids from another universe. He’ll never buy that.”

“Or we find a car and go to him. I mean… we know stuff, Sammy. Stuff about his wife, his folks, his friends. He’ll believe us for sure.” Dean turns to Castiel. “What do you think?”

“I would imagine Bobby could be helpful, yes.”

“What about Missouri?” Sam asks. Both Dean and Castiel turn to him. “I mean, we’re in Lawrence, she’s in Lawrence. I say we call her up.”

“Sam, you’re a genius,” Dean says, beaming as he pulls John’s journal out of his bag to find Missouri phone number. He takes the handset, holding it to his ear as he drops a quarter in the slot.

“Here goes nothing,” he says as he punches the psychic’s number, praying that it will be the same in this universe.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean hadn’t had to say much before Missouri told him to come meet her at her house. Not only had she known who he was, she’d also known he wasn’t from this world. Mostly because she had been the one to suggest to John Winchester that he should go and find a dreamwalker.

“Wonder why our version of you never told our dad about them,” Sam says. The three men are huddled together on Missouri’s rather small sofa, sipping on some tea. She’s facing them, sitting in a much more comfortable looking armchair.

She takes a sip of her own tea and puts the cup back in the saucer before speaking. “From what I understand, our two worlds aren’t on the same timeline. Obviously,” she adds, giving the adult Winchester boys a once over. “We’re a little over thirty years behind. The littlest of difference could be the reason why that is, and it could also explain why I had the mind to tell your father – well, John – about the other universes.”

“See, I don’t think our Missouri even knew about that,” Dean provides.

“Oh… she knew. She had to have known.” Missouri glances at Castiel, her gaze soft and reverent toward him. “Never thought I’d ever meet an angel in the flesh, though,” she says. “Are all angels this handsome?”

Castiel squints at the psychic, then looks down at himself and shrugs. He ignores Dean and Sam chuckling on either side of him. “This is Jimmy Novak’s body. An angel’s true form is quite different.”

“You’ve been wearing this face long enough that it’s pretty much yours now, ain’t it?” Dean says. “And anyway, Jimmy’s been gone forever and you were even human at some point. That body, it’s you, dude.”

“Our dad… do you have a way to reach him? Or do you know where he could be?” Sam asks, not letting Dean and Castiel get into yet another of their lengthy discussions about bodies, and souls, and grace, and true forms. If they start, it might just go on for hours.

“From what I know, your best bet is to go to this bar hunters often stop by…  _ Harvelle’s _ ? It’s in Nebraska, near—”

“We know the place,” Dean says, cutting Missouri off, which results in her pinching her lips. Before she can start scolding him, he keeps going. “Not sure my dad’s gonna be welcomed at that place, seeing Bill died a month ago.”

Missouri’s expression instantly morphs into a confused one. “Whatcha talkin’ about, boy? Bill Harvelle’s not dead. If he was, believe me, I’d know.”

Dean hands her his father’s journal, open at the page where William Harvelle’s demise is related. He points at the date. “In our universe, he died on April 15 of this year. Went on a hunt with our dad and…” He swallows, not too eager to be telling her it had been John’s fault. Not that he would need to; John had written it himself anyway.

When she hands the journal back to Dean, Missouri doesn’t say a word about what she’s just read. “I don’t know where or when it happened, but things have been evolving quite differently here. I can’t say for sure if that’s good or bad.”

“Guess there’ll be some good, and then some bad,” Sam says, taking the journal from Dean. “The only thing we know for sure is that the kids have to come back to this universe, or else the apocalypse will happen. And for them to be able to come back, we gotta find Dad.”

Missouri nods. “I wish I could tell you where your daddy’s at, but I can’t. My powers don’t work that way.” She tilts her head, looking at Castiel again. “You’re an angel… can’t you find him?”

“If I could access the Host, I probably could,” Castiel says. “But I know my brethren and there’s a big chance I’ll be stricken dead if they find out I’ve crossed over. Maybe even by this world’s Castiel himself.” He leans forward, his tone conspiratorial. “I know me, and I would have done this without a second thought at this very point in time if I’d been told to.”

“Good thing you got that tattoo, then,” Dean provides, giving his friend’s covered midsection a short glance.

“I do… I could have erased it, but it is a practical tool to have. And I’ve grown to like it.”

Dean hums, then slams his hands together in a single clap. “So, what do you say? Find ourselves a car and drive over to  _ Harvelle’s _ ?”

The three men get to their feet, Missouri doing the same to walk them to the door. “Now you boys are gonna be safe, right?”

“We’ve got an angel with us, I think we’ll be okay,” Dean says as he squeezes Castiel’s shoulder, smiling. “And if everything goes to plan, you guys will get to have the perfect universe.”

Rolling her eyes, Missouri huffs. “Ain’t anything ever perfect, boy. All I hope is that you being here won’t be making things worse.”

“Believe me, the worse place is the one where we never existed,” Sam says. And even though it could sound as if he’s bragging, he’s not and Missouri knows it.

“Then you go do what you gotta do,” she says as she opens the door. She waits as they walk outside, grabbing Dean’s arm who’s closing the march. “Don’t take the black vehicle. Take the red,” she says, her gaze hard on him.

“What?”

“The car you’re gonna steal? Don’t take the black one. You gotta take the red.”

“What does it matter what color car we take?”

“Don’t argue with me, boy! Just do as I say.”

Dean looks outside, not seeing a single car parked on the street. “What cars are you even talking about?”

“You’ll know when you see them… just remember what I told you.”

Without another word, Missouri nudges Dean outside and lets the screen door shut on his back. He turns around, waving and nodding his thanks at her before catching up to Sam and Castiel waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“Which way?” Sam asks.

“Nebraska is that way,” Castiel says as he starts walking.

“Cas! Don’t think we’re gonna find a car that way,” Dean says, starting to walk in the opposite direction. Cas doesn’t dispute Dean’s reasoning and turns back around to follow the brothers.

It takes about fifteen minutes for them to reach a more commercial area. They’ve seen plenty of cars, but none that they could have tried to leave with without being seen. It’s Sam who spots the vehicles, both parked next to a convenience store and far enough removed to be a safe bet. 

“There,” he says, pointing at them.

When Dean looks at what Sam has found, he gasps. “No fucking way,” he says. “I’m not driving that shitbox.”

“It is quite small,” Castiel agrees as he walks toward the red Chevette. It’s parked next to a black Bronco Dean is eagerly checking out.

“The Bronco looks fine, guys. And at least, we’d fit in it,” he argues, refusing to believe Missouri really expects them to drive around in the red clown car.

Sam is standing between the two vehicles, looking at the smaller one with a purse in his lips. “I believe Missouri when she says we should take the red one, but… I don’t even think I fit in it.”

“Of course you do,” Castiel says, opening the Chevette’s driver door. “And it’s not even locked.”

“Whoever that thing belongs to is probably praying that it’ll get stolen.”

As he speaks, Dean works on unlocking the Bronco’s door. He’s taking the black truck, whatever Missouri had to say about it.

“I don’t think you should do that,” Castiel says. “I could feel the power emanating from your friend and we really should be listening to her.”

“You do whatever you want, I’m taking this one. You go and drive the matchbox car, Sammy and I will be traveling comfortably.” He winks at his brother as he opens the door to sit behind the wheel. “I mean, she’s no Baby, but she’ll do for now.”

In less than a minute, the Bronco’s engine is coming alive, purring like a kitten. Next to it, the Chevette also starts up, Castiel obstinately sitting at the wheel. “You won’t have to drive it, I will. Just come… I don’t think we should split up,” he says, almost having to scream over Dean revving the engine to try and drown him out.

Sam, still standing between the two cars, opens the Chevette’s passenger door. “You barely fit in there, Cas. The top of your head’s touching the ceiling and we’re both taller than you,” he says, pretty much imploring him now. “Dean knows his way around cars, we’ll be okay.”

Castiel squints at him. “Missouri said to take the red car. If you don’t want to sit in this car with me, then go with your pig-headed brother and I’ll be following you. This way, I can pick you up when whatever is to happen happens.”

“Sam! You comin’ or what?” Dean hollers, revving the engine some more, an overly satisfied look on his face.

“Make sure you don’t lose us, then,” Sam only says before closing the door to join his brother in the Bronco.

“So long, loser!” Dean says when Sam has joined him, making the tires screech as he drives out of the parking lot with Castiel glaring at them.


	8. Chapter 8

“Just shut your pie hole, Cas! And move over!”

Even though Castiel could refuse and stay seated behind the wheel, he decides against it: Dean is pissed off enough as it is.

As he swiftly slides to the passenger side of the red Chevette, he can hear Sam grunting as he tries to make himself remotely comfortable in the back seat. With his knees almost up to his chest, Castiel glances to the back to see Sam sitting sideways, his legs bent at the knees and his neck crooked in a worrying way.

“I’m sorry, I need to back up the seat just a bit,” Castiel announces, making Sam huff as the back of the seat bumps against his arm.

“This is ridiculous,” Sam says, sending an exasperated gaze to Dean through the rearview mirror. “We should just walk and find another car. One that we can actually fit in.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Sam. Where the hell do you want us to find a damn car?” Dean provides as he tries, and fails, to find a comfortable position to drive in. “We’ll ditch this fucking soapbox as soon as we can, but for now it’s either that or walking again.”

 

    
[Impalartsociopath](http://impalartsociopath.tumblr.com/post/177530525225/reset-masterpost)

 

Before Sam can protest some more, Dean veers back onto the road, glaring at the burning Bronco as they drive past it. He shakes his head, hating that Missouri had been right to say they should have stayed clear of it. Mostly, he hates to have thought he could have handled anything the car would throw at him. The engine catching fire not even an hour after they left Lawrence isn’t something he ever thought would happen.

“What did you do to it?” Castiel asks him, eyes on the flaming truck.

“Didn’t do nothing, Cas. It just caught on fire.”

“Is that something that happens often?”

Dean doesn’t answer, scoffing and rolling his eyes instead. Castiel turns to look at him and chuckles.

“What?”

“You look ridiculous hunched over the wheel like that,” Castiel says, smiling at him.

“You think you look any better?” Dean replies.

“I think you should both shut up and find another car, and quick!” Sam says. “I’m scared I’ll never be able to unfold myself if I don’t get out soon.”

“Next town’s about twenty minutes from here. We’ll find another ride for sure.”

They do reach the next town quickly and the three men let out relieved breaths when they take place into an older, but roomier Chevy Caprice. Again, not an Impala, but a definite improvement from the compact Chevette. It’s a yucky mint color and only has two doors, but the guys feel like they can breathe again.

“I think we should eat something,” Dean says after a while, not in a brooding mood anymore.

“Do we have money?” Castiel asks, resting his chin on the front seat between the brothers.

“It’s never stopped us before,” Dean says while Sam pops open the glove compartment to look through it.

“There’s nothing here,” he says, taking out his own wallet to examine the bills. “Yeah, pretty sure if we try to pay with this, they’ll think it’s counterfeit.” He waves a modern twenty dollar bill in front of Castiel who looks at it through narrowed eyes. Sam keeps looking and takes out a ten dollar note. “This one’s older, says 1984. We could use it. And that’s hoping this universe’s money even looks the same. It must, seeing as the guy at the garage took my two dollar bills without noticing anything weird.”

The next second, Dean’s and Castiel’s wallets land on Sam’s lap. Without a word, he looks through them as well. Once he’s done, they have a whopping total of thirty-six dollars and fifty-two cents.

“That’s not gonna last long,” Dean says as he swerves into a roadside bar’s parking lot. There are six motorcycles and a couple of pick-up trucks already parked. “Perfect!” he says, opening the door and slamming it shut before Castiel can try getting out.

The angel scoffs and waits for Sam to have gotten out so he can exit through the other side, Dean already halfway to the door. Castiel goes to follow him, but Sam grabs at his coat sleeve to stop him.

“We gotta wait a couple of minutes.”

“Why?”

Sam leans on the car, crossing his arms and legs. Castiel tilts his head, then does the same.

“When we go in, we’re gonna act as if we don’t know him. He’ll be at the bar, acting already a bit drunk. If nobody’s playing pool, you and I will have to start up a game. You’ve played before, right?”

“Not really, but Metatron gifted me with all the books ever written, so I do have a theoretical knowledge of the game. Seems easy enough.”

Sam chuckles. “It’s only so Dean can come in and play like crap. I’ll beat him, come back to sit with you, he’ll make a scene. There should be a couple of guys in there willing to try and take the rest of his money.”

“But of course, Dean will win. Does he always win?”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

“What if he loses?”

“Then I guess we won’t go and have dinner.”

Castiel follows Sam as he walks inside. As he’d said, Dean is sitting at the bar, slouched over his drink and acting out. Sam and Castiel sit in a corner where they can keep an eye on the pool table. A game is already being played and there’s a small stack of money on the side. Bingo!

Sam orders a couple of beers from the waitress when she comes to see them. She leaves, only to be accosted by a falsely drunk Dean as she goes back behind the bar. Sam chuckles when she slaps him in the face after he’s said whatever to her.

They look on as Dean falls to the floor with a loud yelp. Causing a scene is yet another trademark move, as it forces the other patrons to look his way. And now that he knows he’s been seen, Dean gets back up, takes his glass and waddles toward the pool table.

“Who’mma gonna take their cash from, huh?” he says in a slur. The men playing, all with the same biker gang logo on their jackets, start laughing.

“Run along, dude. It’d be too easy to cream ya.”

“I’m good at that game. Like… the _bestest_ ,” Dean mumbles as he slaps a ten dollar bill on the table. “Betcha can take one just like that from ya.”

The bigger of the dudes holding a cue smirks at him. “Ten bucks? Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t play for less than twenty, so buzz off!”

Dean slaps another ten on top of the first one. “There… twenty…” He frowns, plays around with the bills, then puts them back on the table. “Yeah… twenty bucks.”

“Fine… you can’t say I didn’t warn you,” the man says as he adds a crisp twenty dollar bill over the two tens. He signals to one of his pals to rack the balls. “I’ll even let you break, ‘cause I’m a gentleman,” he adds, taking a step away from the table.

Dean staggers as he goes to choose a cue, making a spectacle of grunting as he overanalyzes it, then gets in position. As he aims, he sways a bit, burps, makes a disgusted face, burps again, then hits the cue ball.

The men surrounding the table erupt in laughter when the ball only makes minimal damage.

“Wanna try that again?” Dean’s adversary says, a smug look on his face.

“Nah… s’perfect like that… your turn.”

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for the biker to clear the table, no matter how the balls had all been clustered together before. The man grabs the cash and goes to put it in his wallet. It doesn’t matter that he’s really good, Dean knows he’s much better, so he doesn’t even consider not challenging the guy some more.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… I can do this,” Dean says, still slurring his speech. “Double or nothin’.”

The biker comes to stand closer. Dean has to look up to meet his eyes; he’s even taller than Sammy.

“Show me the money,” he says, almost making Dean break character.

Putting an arrogant smile on his face instead, Dean takes some of his modern bills and waves them in the guy’s face, hoping he won’t want to look at them more closely. “Got cash, man. What? You ’fraid or som’in? ‘Fraid imma gonna wipe the floor with your ass?”

The other bikers laugh yet again, one of them already racking the balls.

“Me? Afraid of you?” The man takes a step forward to speak right into Dean’s face. “Ain’t afraid of your delicate pussy ass… pussy!” he says, licking his lips as his gaze goes back and forth between Dean’s eyes and mouth. “Whatta you say we up the ante a bit?”

Dean doesn’t move away, holding the man’s gaze with half-lidded eyes. “As long as you don’t ask me to play with your balls, I’m down.”

With a snarl, the biker takes a step back to pull numerous bills from his wallet. “I see your double or nothin’, and I add another hundred. You game? I’ll even let you break since you’re so damn good at it.”

Dean burps again, showing him the money as he nods. “Prepare to go back to your momma cryin’,” he says as he gets in position. This time, his stance is steady, focused. Before he shoots, he takes a second to look up at the biker and winks.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam and Castiel are already sitting in the car when Dean runs out of the bar, waiting for him with the engine running. He plunges through the open passenger door, Sam hitting the gas pedal before Dean even has time to shut it.

As they drive away, Castiel keeps an eye on the gang running out after Dean and going to their bikes. He smiles when none of them start, a couple of the men now trying to run after the car. They abandon quickly, not without trying to shoot at the Caprice that’s already too far out.

“That was fun,” Dean says after counting the money he’s won, grinning ear to ear as he’s showing it off to Castiel.

“We should be good for some time,” Sam says. “Close to two hundred bucks in 1986? Pretty sure it’s about twice that for our time.”

“And seeing as I don’t eat or drink much of anything, I shouldn’t be a monetary burden for you.”

Dean doesn’t turn when he speaks. “You wouldn’t be a burden, Cas, even if you had to eat. If someone’s a burden her, it’s this guy,” he adds, pointing a thumb at his brother. “Do you know how much that hair costs to manage?”

“Real funny, Dean,” Sam says, catching Castiel’s gaze in the mirror. “But he’s right… you’ll never be a burden, monetary or otherwise, you hear?

All that answers him is a small smile and a nod. Nobody speaks again, not until Dean notices where they are. “Hey! The bunker’s right over that way,” he says, pointing to the right when they get to an intersection. He turns to Sam. “We got our key… I mean, if we need somewhere to hide out. Or maybe we could give it to John when we’re done here?”

“We kinda need it, Dean. Don’t think we should give it away,” Sam says as he keeps driving toward Smith Center.

“Mom’s got a copy… hell, Cas has a copy… we’ll just make more.”

“Yeah, okay… when all’s taken care of, we’ll give one to Dad. It’d be a safe place for him and the kids to live at.”

“That’s a great idea,” Castiel provides from the backseat. “Your father is a legacy of the Men of Letters, after all. It would only be logical that he gets to take possession of the bunker.”

Soon, Sam is parking the Caprice in one of Smith Center’s diners, one that’s still standing in 2018 in their universe. The three men smile from the familiarity of it all as they make their way in, only half surprised to be greeted by a much younger version of a waitress they already know.

“Hello there, fellas,” Daisy says, pointing at a free booth near the windows. She then points at the menu card on the table as they take place, Dean and Castiel on one side with Sam facing them. “Would you like something to drink while I let you take a look-see at the menu?” she asks.

“Three colas,” Dean says, his eyes on the menu already. He doesn’t need to look for long, already knowing what he’s in the mood for. He slides the menu over to his brother. “They don’t got your salad, Sammy… you’re gonna have to do like me and clog your arteries with fatty goodness.”

Sam huffs but doesn’t answer, still making a point of trying to find something remotely healthy.

“How about you, Cas? Cheeseburger and fries?”

“I don’t need to eat, Dean, you know this.”

“Who said anything about need? Eating’s fun, tastes good in the mouth and feels great in the belly. Come on… not even fries?”

“No, thank you. My taste buds don’t react like yours do, and it’s not always pleasant.”

Dean doesn’t insist, rolling his eyes. When Daisy comes back with their drinks, they’re ready to order. Dean goes for the usual cheeseburger and fries while Sam decides to go for the grilled chicken version.

As they wait, Dean flips through his father’s journal. It doesn’t matter that the path of this world’s John might be vastly different, Azazel’s might still be the same. He goes to the page where their father had listed the demon’s sightings.

“Check this out,” Dean says as he’s reading through the list. “Dad wrote in here that Azazel was in Waterloo, Iowa, on May 19, 1986. That’s in four days, guys.”

Daisy’s already coming back to drop Dean and Sam’s plates in front of them. They wait for her to be gone before resuming their conversation.

“Means we gotta find Dad sooner than later,” Dean says. “Do we know where in Waterloo?”

“Nope, but we got a name: Belinda Stanhope. Once we’re at  _ Harvelle’s _ , we can try looking her up before going to find Dad.”

As he’s closing John’s journal to put it away, Dean catches sight of Castiel nabbing a fry from his plate.

“Hey!” he says, slapping the hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Castiel frowns at him, perplexed. “I’m tasting your fries, Dean. They do look good.”

“I asked you if you wanted to order some, and you said no… so, you know, keep your grabby hands away from my food, Grabby McGrab!”

Sam rolls his eyes, pushing his plate closer to Castiel. “You can have some of mine, Cas. My brother’s a big baby who doesn’t like to share.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Dean says, pouting. “It’s just… he said he didn’t want any!”

Castiel too rolls his eyes before glaring at Dean as he takes a fry from Sam’s plate, letting out an exaggerated hum as he chews. “You are very generous, Sam. Thank you,” he says, never looking away from Dean who just scoffs at him and chooses to bite into his burger rather than trying to find something to answer.

Half an hour later, they’re back on the road with Dean at the wheel. In less than three hours, he’s shutting the engine off in the parking lot of  _ Harvelle’s _ . It pretty much looks the same as it did before it got destroyed, doesn’t matter that this version is thirty years younger. Inside, customers are scattered around the place and Dean has to wonder if they’re all hunters.

Behind the bar stands a man none of them ever had the pleasure to meet; Bill Harvelle. And the only reason they know it’s him comes with a young Ellen Harvelle holding a little girl in tiny blonde pigtails – Jo – over her hip. She’s just kissed the man on the mouth before going through the kitchen’s revolving door.

Most clients look up as Sam, Dean, and Castiel make their way to the bar. They each sit on a stool and Dean holds a finger up so Bill will come and see them.

“Three beers, whatever you got on tap,” he says, smiling. Bill gives them a circumspect look and complies, glancing at them regularly as he prepares their order.

“Six bucks even,” he says when he places the beer mugs in front of them. Dean takes out a ten dollar bill and slides it to him.

“Keep the change.” Bill’s eyebrows shoot up, but he says nothing. “My name’s Dean. This is my brother Sam, and this is our friend Castiel,” Dean says, putting his hand out for Bill to shake. “We’re hunters.”

Bill Harvelle’s demeanor stiffens a bit at that. “Oh… you are, are you? We’ve never met before, did we? Your names don’t ring a bell.”

“No, we’ve never met before,” Sam confirms, him too shaking Bill’s hand. “But we’ve heard of you… and you know our dad. John Winchester?”

Bill, who had been shaking Castiel’s hand by then, lets it go to take a step back, clearly not trusting any of them. He puts a hand behind himself, the gesture enough for them to know he has a gun hidden back there and that he’s ready to use it.

“Whoa, let us explain, all right?” Dean says with both his hands up, placating. He notices some of the other patrons have started to move to circle them, also ready to attack or shoot.

“We’re from another reality, okay? John… he came to our world to drop off his kids, the younger versions of us. We know what John’s looking for and where he can find it. We decided to come and help Dad kill the yellow-eyed demon because he needs to get his kids back here. You know about that, right? The yellow-eyed demon? From the little I know, you and my dad were friends. And Missouri says you guys know about other realities.”

“We do,” Bill says, still with a hand behind his back. “Why don’t you start by taking a sip of your beers, then you’ll cut yourselves with a silver blade. If none of those do any bit of damage, then we can think about talkin’.”

One of the clients slams an ornate knife on the bar, right next to Castiel’s hand. Nobody is talking anymore and even the jukebox has gone silent. Everybody waits to see if the strangers are to be killed or not. After a quick glance at each other, the three guys drink some of their beers before cutting into the meat of their arms with the provided blade. When nothing happens, the air around them clears a bit, people going back to their seats and resuming whatever conversation they’d been having.

Bill visibly relaxes, taking his hand out of his back to take a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar. He also grabs four tumblers and slides them on the bar before pointing at a nearby table.

“All right, guys… you go and sit over there and I’ll be joining you in a sec. We still need to determine if you really are who you say you are.”


	10. Chapter 10

Bill goes through the kitchen revolving door, coming back out less than a minute later with Ellen on his heels. She places one of those old – old for 2018 anyway – baby monitors on the bar and watches intently as her husband goes to sit with the Winchesters. Nobody says a word as he pours everyone a couple of fingers of whiskey.

“All right… convince me you’re John Winchester’s boys. Who’s your mom?”

“Mary Campbell… she’s from a long line of hunters, but Dad doesn’t know that. Don’t think he ever knew in our universe, anyway.”

Bill raises an eyebrow at the name. “John never told me Mary’s maiden name, but I’ve heard of a clan of hunters named Campbell. Go on.”

“Samuel Campbell was our grandfather, Mary’s dad. I was named after him,” Sam says, about to explain how Dean’s named after their grandmother. He doesn’t have time to do it.

“Didn’t he and his wife die a while back? I hear the clan kinda scattered around after that.”

“They did die… killed by a demon named Azazel.” Dean swallows, still with the images of his grandparents getting murdered in front of him – because of him. “It’s the same demon that killed our mom and the same thing our dad’s hunting. Don’t think he knows his name yet, though. He still called him Yellow Eyes at the time, I think.”

“Yeah, he did tell me about him. What he never explained is what that demon’s problem with the Campbells is. Do you know?”

Of course, Sam and Dean know what the dickbag’s endgame is, but they’re not sure they should be telling Bill everything they know. Not after their implication in the apocalypse has rubbed so many hunters the wrong way over the years. However supportive Ellen had been, they have no way of knowing what Bill’s stance would be about all of it.

Dean takes time to chug his whiskey down as he considers his answer. “Not sure. All we know is that Azazel’s gonna go and unleash demons upon the Earth many years from now.”

“Why?”

“It’s all part of his plan to free Lucifer from his cage in Hell,” Castiel explains in place of the brothers. “As you might imagine, this can never happen. If Lucifer gets out, the Apocalypse is upon you all.”

When Bill turns to Castiel, there’s obvious distrust in his eyes. “I’m ready to believe these two are who they say they are. You, though? I get a weird vibe from you. Who are you supposed to be, again?

“Castiel, and he’s an angel,” Dean says. When Bill starts laughing, Castiel tilts his head and frowns.

“There’s no such thing as angels,” Bill says as he grabs the gun in the back of his jeans to point it at Cas’s head. “I can tell when there’s a monster in my bar, though… the back of my neck gets all tingly.”

“Whoa, there, Bill… not a monster,” Sam says, putting a hand between Castiel and the barrel of the gun. “You saw him, he drank the holy water and cut himself with the silver blade. It didn’t do anything to him. He really is an angel, all right?”

“You didn’t dispute demons or even Lucifer were real just now. You have to know that Lucifer’s an archangel, right? Fallen, but an archangel all the same,” Castiel says.

“They’re telling the truth,” Ellen provides as she comes by the table to pour some more whiskey into the men’s glasses. “Just got a call from Missouri. She says they’re the real deal, and this one’s really an angel.” She looks at Castiel with a smile, obviously a little awed by that fact.

“So good to see you again, Ellen,” Dean says, doing his best to ignore how much of a babe she is. Like, she was a beautiful woman when he knew her, but that younger version? He’d be all over her if she wasn’t married and… well… Ellen.

“Wish I could say the same about you guys,” she says as she gives him a once-over, wrapping a loving hand over her husband’s shoulders. “So… I take it that we’re friends in the future?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Sam says. “In our world, we only met you and Jo about ten years ago… hmm… a little over twenty years from now?”

Both Ellen and Bill frown, glancing at each other. “How’s that possible? Didn’t your dad know us in your world?”

“He did, but you guys had a… hmm… a falling out of sorts. That’s why we never met you until later,” Dean explains, hoping this will be enough of an explanation for them. He’s not too keen on the idea of having to reveal how Bill should be dead right now and how it would be John’s fault.

“John Winchester is kind of a stubborn guy, so it’s not really surprising to hear this,” Ellen says. “No offense.”

Dean raises a hand and nods. “None taken… I remember how he was.”

Silence falls on the table, Ellen giving them each a short nod before going back to tend the bar.

“So… I guess you guys didn’t come here just to say hi,” Bill says after a bit of time. “What is it that you need?”

“We need to look up some girl we’re pretty sure Azazel will be attacking soon, and we need to find John,” Sam answers. “Would you happen to know where he is?”

“Didn’t see him for a bit… last time he came by, he said he was on his way to go find a dreamwalker.”

“And when was that?”

Bill shrugs, sipping on the last of his drink. “‘Bout a month ago? I mean, dreamwalkers aren’t that easy to find in the first place. They’ve been keeping a low profile since alternate realities became general knowledge. General knowledge for hunters, anyway.”

“And when did that happen?”

Bill shrugs again. “Not sure… somewhere in the fifties, I guess? Big snafu on the Men of Letters’ part. Pretty sure that info was never supposed to get out.”

The three of them are shocked by the news, Sam being the first one to find his voice back. “You guys know about the Men of Letters?”

“Well… yeah? Why wouldn’t we know about those dicks?”

“John Winchester is legacy. So are Sam and Dean,” Castiel says, frowning at the Winchesters who are now glaring at him.

Bill is squinting at them, distrustful once again. “You said you were hunters.” 

“We are,” Sam reassures him. “We learned late in life about the Men of Letters, and that our grandfather, Henry Winchester, was one of them. That’s another thing our dad never knew because Henry disappeared when he was just a kid.”

“So what? You boys work for them now?”

Dean shakes his head. “They don’t exist no more, not in America anyway. And no, we don’t work for them. You’re right when you say that they’re major dicks.”

“Are they still in operation in this reality?” Castiel asks, to which Bill also shakes his head.

“Not since the early sixties, or so I’m told. If they are, they do their own thing and they don’t mess with us.”

Bill pours whiskey in their glasses again. “I can’t tell you where John could be right now, but what we can do is keep an ear out for you. In the meantime, I think you should go see this guy. Maybe you know him… Bobby Singer?”

The three men smile at the name. “Yeah, we know Bobby… spent a whole bunch of time at the Salvage Yard when we were kids,” Dean says. “You think he’ll know where John is?”

“He’s kind of our go-to guy when we need help with the lore and stuff. Lots of people call him up. John Winchester will be much easier to find if Bobby knows to be looking for him.”

A couple of guys sitting nearby turn to them. The older one, wearing a worn-out cowboy hat, tips his beer at Bill. “Heard Bobby Singer was on a hunt somewhere in the Badlands National Park. He’s helping out Rufus Turner hunt a chupacabra or something.”

“Do you know where in the park?” Dean asks.

The man huffs at him. “What do I look like? His damn secretary?”

“Don’t listen to my friend… the more he drinks, the less friendly he gets, but he’s harmless,” the younger man sitting with him says, holding a hand out. “The name’s Martin Creaser.”

It surprises both Sam and Dean not to have recognized Martin. They’d known him for a long time and for some reason, they’re having trouble connecting this guy’s fresh face with the man they once knew. Probably going insane hadn’t helped him age nicely. Or staying alive, Dean thinks as he reluctantly shakes hands with the man.

“We knew you back home,” Sam says when he too shakes his hand.

“Knew?”

“We lost touch, not sure where you’re at these days,” Dean says before too many questions get to be asked. And with things being different enough here, maybe Martin won’t go crazy, lock himself up in an asylum and later try to kill Benny. 

Dean’s heart skips a beat at the memory of his friend: Will Benny ever even get out of Purgatory if Dean and Castiel never get sent there?

Martin nods, pointing his thumb at the man in the hat. “That’s Stu… Stu Barkley. Know him too?”

“Sorry, no, we don’t,” Sam says, now shaking hands with Stu. “Maybe we’ve just never crossed paths with him.

“I’m prol’ly dead,” Stu provides, shaking Castiel’s hand after shaking Dean’s. “I’m already too old to hunt anyway.”

The only thing anyone can say to that is to respond in kind when Stu raises his glass and hollers “To dying young and pretty!”, making everyone in the bar raise their own glasses and holler the words back at him.


	11. Chapter 11

After failing to locate Belinda Stanhope with the help of the Harvelles, the guys decide to get back on the road. Dean, having enjoyed a little too much of Bill’s whiskey, is sleeping it off on the back seat and Sam feels he shouldn’t be driving either. Which is why it falls upon Castiel to sit behind the wheel to drive them all to the Badlands National Park, in South Dakota.

It takes a little over five hours to reach the main ranger’s station, Dean never once rising from his slumber while Sam also manages to clock a couple of hours of sleep. Both brothers wake up when Castiel shuts off the Caprice’s engine.

“We’re here?” Sam asks between yawns.

“We are,” Castiel confirms. “I think we’ll have to wait until the morning to speak to anyone. The station looks closed.”

“There has to be someone on duty,” Dean counters. “Is anyone gonna let me out? Gotta pee real bad.” Both Castiel and Sam get out of the car, Dean following through the passenger side. He leads the way toward the ranger’s station, offering the other two a satisfied grin when he’s able to open the door.

They follow him inside, Castiel making a beeline for the front desk while Sam goes to the restroom alongside his brother.

“Hey there, campers, you gettin’ in late,” the short stocky man at the desk says in greeting. Castiel glances at his name tag and nods.

“We’re not here to camp, Ranger Clarkson. We only came here to touch base with some colleagues of ours, FBI agents…” As he speaks, Castiel is forced to realize he has no clue what names Bobby and Rufus could have been using. Not that it matters, he soon finds out.

“No need to worry, man,” Ranger Clarkson says with a wink. “The windigo’s all taken care of.”

Castiel squints at him. “What did you just say?”

“You guys came to help out Rufus and Bobby, right? Not that they needed any help… I mean, they torched that motherfucker real nice a couple of days ago.”

“How do you know about that stuff?” Dean asks. He and Sam have just come out of the restroom, right in time to hear what the ranger had been saying. “You a hunter?”

Ranger Clarkson throws his head back, laughing. “Shit! No, man! I’m just a ranger,” he offers when his laughter has died down. “But I do know a thing or two about what goes bump in the night.” He extends a hand, smiling. “Steve Clarkson… met Rufus a while back, when he saved me from becoming a vampire’s snack. And you guys are…?”

Sam nods, a conflicted pout on his face as he shakes the man’s hand. “I’m Sam. This is my brother Dean, and our friend Castiel. So, you got attacked by vampires and you didn’t become a hunter after that? Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just… most people do.”

Steve shrugs, then goes on to shake hands with Dean and Castiel. “Had just started working here when it happened, and Rufus told me how lots of scary stuff would hide out in the woods. I thought the best I could do to pay it forward would be to keep an eye out around here, you know? The minute I think it’s something you guys should be handling, I call Rufus and he makes sure someone comes to check it out.”

“We certainly need more people like you out there, so thanks for that,” Dean says, wondering if they also have a Ranger Clarkson in their world. “So you say Bobby and Rufus ganked a windigo a couple of days ago? Guess that means they’re gone… do you know where they went?”

“Dunno about Rufus, but I’m pretty sure Bobby said he was going back to Sioux Falls.”

Dean huffs, looking at his watch as he addresses his brother. “How pissed do you think he’s gonna be if I try calling him now? I mean, I won’t be driving all the way to Bobby’s if he’s not even gonna be there.” He turns back to face the ranger. “We’re what… about five hours from there?”

Steve shrugs again, turning the phone around so Dean can use it. “Five or six, maybe. Not too sure. It’s not like I ever go anywhere.”

It’s Sam who takes the phone, already punching in Bobby’s old number. It only takes a couple of rings for this world’s version of their surrogate father to answer.

“Yeah…?”

“Bobby? Is that you?” Sam can’t help but ask, taken aback by how much younger the man sounds.

“Who’s askin’?”

Sam glances at Dean before answering. “We’re friends of John Winchester’s, and we kinda need your help finding him. Do you happen to know where he is?”

“Still waitin’ to know your name… unless you tell me that, I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

This time, Sam sighs. “It’s a long story, Bobby, but we’re Sam and Dean Winchester. We came here from another world and—”

“Like hell, you are!”

“Bobby, I swear, I’m telling the truth. Call Missouri Moseley, or Bill and Ellen Harvelle… even Martin Creaser knows who we are. In the meantime, we’ll drive down to Sioux Falls and then we can chat, okay?”

“Oh, I’ll call ‘em all right. And I’ll be here waitin’ for ya either with a loaded shotgun or a couple of cold beers.”

There’s a bit of relief in Sam’s voice when he speaks again. “We’ll be there in the morning with doughnuts, Bobby, so make that beer coffee and we have a deal,” he says before hanging up the phone.

“What did he say?”

“I’d say we got a fifty-fifty percent chance of getting shot when we get to his place.”

Dean nods, satisfied. “For Bobby Singer, those are good odds. I’m driving,” he adds before shaking hands with Steve again. “Thanks for your help, man… keep fighting the good fight, you hear?”

“I will,” the ranger answers, smiling. “You guys take care of yourselves out there, yeah?” He shakes hands once more with Sam and Castiel, then looks on as they leave the office.

They’re soon back on the road, stopping by a gas station a mere ten minutes later. While Dean fills up the tank, Sam and Castiel go inside to pay and pick out some drinks and snacks. They’ve only just gotten back on the road that the sound of a snack bag being opened erupts from the backseat. Dean looks at Castiel in the rearview mirror right as the angel plops something in his mouth.

“You’re eating?” he asks, wondering both why and what it could be.

“I am. Bought myself some pork rinds. I do crave them from time to time. Somehow, that is one thing the taste didn’t change much from when I was human.”

Even with all his own cholesterol-filled preferences, Dean just can’t bear the thought of eating that crap. So he huffs and purses his lips because, well, that shit is disgusting. Castiel rolls his eyes and goes on to ignore him, chomping on his snack with exaggerated gusto.

Which is why Dean puts on a tape much louder than he should have. Thankfully, it’s not enough to tamper with Sam napping in the passenger seat. About halfway to Sioux Falls, Dean notices that Castiel is done munching on his pork scraps and turns the volume down a bit.

“What do you think about my mom wanting to follow Dad and the kids here?” he asks in a low voice, his gaze flicking back and forth between the angel’s reflection and the road.

Castiel moves to sit in the middle. “I think it makes sense.”

Dean may know it makes sense, he still isn’t ready to accept that. “What if it didn’t? I mean… you said it; all that shit was written eons ago. Even with Azazel dead, there’s gotta be others out there who’ll wanna try to bring Lucifer topside. I mean… Lilith?” He glances to the side to see a pinched expression on Castiel’s face. “Yeah… thought so.”

“So what? You’d rather tell the Winchesters from this world to stay away? You know it’ll only make matters worse, right?”

“I know… just, not for them, though. They’d really have a chance at a better life.”

“And let this world be angel fodder instead?”

Sam’s voice is thunderous when he speaks. He’s still lying against the door with his eyes closed, but he’s clearly not sleeping anymore. Nobody says another word until Sam opens his eyes to glare at his brother. “I know I was the first one to say she shouldn’t be leaving, but it’s not our decision to make. It’s hers. I mean, it’ll suck, I’m not denying this, but we lived most of our lives without her. Those other kids? They have a chance we didn’t have… they get to have her back.”

“Which means we’ll be losing her again.” Dean glances at Castiel, briefly. “Or maybe we could decide to come back here with them,” he tries, his eyes now back on the road. “I mean… wouldn’t be so bad to be an adult in the eighties now, would it?”


	12. Chapter 12

Driving into  _ Singer’s Salvage Yard _ is enough to make Dean and Sam emotional. Not only did they spend a good chunk of their childhood there, they’ve also been missing it greatly since it got burned down by the Leviathans. The same Leviathans who killed Bobby… doesn’t matter that the Alternate-Bobby they met had been nice enough, he just hadn’t been their Bobby.

Emotions turn into something akin to heartache when a much younger Bobby gets out on the porch to greet them, a shotgun in hand. He tosses a flask at their feet as they approach the house, then throws a silver knife.

“You should know what to do,” he says, his gun aimed at them.

“Didn’t you talk to anyone about us?” Sam calls as he dips down to grab the bottle and knife.

“Of course, I did. If I hadn’t, I probably woulda shot ya already. A whole lot can happen during a five-hour drive.” He waves his gun at them. “Get on with it, before I lose the little patience I got.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate and takes a sip of holy water. He then passes the flask to Castiel before cutting high into his forearm. The three of them go through the ritual, then wait for Bobby to lower his weapon. He doesn’t, but still comes down the couple of steps to stand closer to them.

“What do you want with John Winchester?”

“As I told you over the phone, we’re his sons Sam and Dean, but from another universe,” Sam says. Before he can say another word, Dean takes a step forward as he continues with his brother’s explanation.

“John dropped off his kids with us and left. We know what he’s looking for, and we might know where he can find it. We only came here to help.”

Bobby squints at them, but still lowers the gun a bit. “If you’re here, then who’s got the kids?”

“Mary’s got them,” Castiel says, only to see the brothers turn to him, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Mary? As in, Mary Winchester? Their mother?” This time, Bobby lets the gun aim at the ground. “Are you telling me the kids’ mom, your mom… she never died in your world?”

Dean is rubbing at the back of his neck now. He looks at Sam who gives him a slight nod; apparently, this is Dean’s story to tell. So he looks back at Bobby and nods.

“Nah… she did die. It’s kind of a long story, but a bunch of stuff happened and… well… Mom came back a couple of years ago. T’was some kind of reward we got for saving the world.”

Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sounds like some kind of demon deal to me, man. Saving the world from what?”

There’s heat in Dean’s cheeks now. “God’s sister?”

This time, Dean’s answer makes Bobby gape at him. “God has a sister? And you know her? Do you know God too?” He turns to Castiel, clearly waiting for an explanation, which means he’s also been told the guy is an angel.

“We did encounter Her. As we did encounter God… well… they did, mostly,” Castiel says, bitterness clouding his tone. “I mean, I met Him too… didn’t know it was Him at the time and when we met again, He was dying and Dean was gonna die, and I never really got the chance to talk to Him, even though… I had been look—”

Castiel is rambling now and it seems to be making Bobby even more confused. Sam smiles at Bobby and claps a hand over Castiel’s shoulder, making the words die in his throat. “Like we told you, it’s a long story. One that might not need to repeat itself if we can help John find Azazel and kill him.”

Bobby grumbels, looking at them. “Fine… made coffee. Where’s the doughnuts at?”

Dean holds a finger up to go back into the car and grab the box from the back seat. He comes back, beaming. “Hope you like the same ones our Bobby did… strawberry jam?”

“Like there should be any other kind,” Bobby says in a huff as he turns around to lead the way inside.

Everything is the same as they remember it, and it’s almost enough for the brothers to spill a tear or two. Of course, they don’t, but it comes close on a couple of occasions. Everything their Bobby was, this one is. The only difference is the loss of his beloved wife being closer in time, the grief still clinging heavily to him. That, and the fact that at thirty-six, Bobby’s barely a year older than Sam and younger than Dean by three.

“So… that demon. He can’t be killed or exorcised like the others?” Bobby asks when Sam is done explaining their plan; going to Waterloo with their dad and ganking Yellow Eyes.

“No… he’s no ordinary demon. He’s a Prince of Hell,” Castiel provides. As he does, Sam is going through the duffel he’s brought inside to pull out Michael’s archangel blade and put it on the table, in front of Bobby. “Archangel blades are the most powerful weapons in the universe. This’ll be enough to take care of him.”

Bobby hardly hesitates before taking the blade in his hands, feeling the weight of it.

“Doesn’t look like much,” he says. “Weighs nothin’. You sure it’s enough to kill something that powerful?”

“The only thing it can’t kill is God Himself… and Death, most probably,” Castiel provides, his eyes never leaving Michael’s sword as Bobby wields it around. “It will end Azazel without a doubt.”

Bobby nods and puts the blade back on the table. “And you know where the demon’s gonna be?”

This time, it’s Dean who goes through the bag to take out John’s journal. “We’re not sure, seeing as not everything is the same here as it was in our world,” he explains as he flips the pages to find the list of Azazel sightings. “But it’s all we got going for us,” he says, sliding the journal toward Bobby.

The man takes a quick look at it and nods. “So, basically, you got three days to find John, find where that Belinda chick lives in Waterloo and go there to kill the son of a bitch.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You’re not gonna like it, guys, but I don’t know where your father’s at. It’s not like he checks in with me. Or anyone, for that matter. Unless John Winchester needs somethin’, I ain’t gonna hear from him.”

“But you know a lot of people, don’t you, Bobby?” Sam asks. “We could get on the phone and call as many hunters as possible, ask if they know where John is… I mean, somebody out there’s gotta at least know the dreamwalker he’s been hanging out with.”

Bobby nods and holds a finger up before disappearing into the den. When he comes back a minute later, he has his own journal in hand. “Got the number of this lady here. Helped her get out of a bind a couple of years ago, saved her from a gang of dreamwalker poachers.”

“Dreamwalker poachers? That’s a thing?” Sam says, appalled.

“Sadly, yeah! That’s why it’s so hard to find ’em nowadays, ya know? They hide…”

“Is that who you would have sent my dad to?”

“Your dad never asked me about none of that, so no. But that lady might know who it was that helped him. ”

Bobby gets up again to go and grab one of the numerous phones on the wall. He dials the number and puts the handset over his ear.

“Alannah? Bobby Singer,” he says, sounding much less gruff now. “Listen, I got some friends here who could use your help.” He waits, listening intently. “No, nothing like that. I wouldn’t dare ask this of you. No, they need to find a friend of theirs and I’m told he’s been hanging out with a dreamwalker.”

He turns to speak to Dean. “You don’t know the dreamwalker’s name, do ya?”

“No, John didn’t introduce us or nothing. The girl was kinda young, though. Dark skin and hair, real pretty, ’bout twenty years old.”

Bobby goes back to his conversation. “You heard that? Yeah? Do you know where she could be?” Bobby nods, listening as he takes notes on a pad lying on the counter. “Yeah, got it… you got a phone number we could try? It’s pretty far out, and we’re kind of on the clock right now.” Bobby nods again, humming as he keeps scribbling on the paper. “All right, thanks a whole bunch, Alannah. Say hi to your kids for me. Yeah, next time I drive through there, I’ll stop for a coffee. Yeah, same to ya!”

After hanging up, Bobby tears the page off the pad and comes back to the table, giving the paper to Sam. “Alannah thinks your dreamwalker could be Shantel Robinson… gave me her folks’ phone number.”

“Her folks?” Dean says, now worried John could have gone and had a kid help him out.

“Yeah… Alannah says the kid’s at Kansas U, in fuckin’ Lawrence. Too much of a coincidence, I’d say. Can only hope her parents are gonna wanna help ya.”

Dean snatches the paper from Sam’s hand as he gets up to walk to the phones. “May I?” he asks, still not waiting for Bobby’s okay before taking one and dialing the number on the page.


	13. Chapter 13

Not only had that Alannah lady been right about Shantel being the dreamwalker who had helped John, she had also been right to be worried about her parents’ reaction about it.

Shantel’s father, Marlon Robinson, couldn’t tell Dean how it happened, but John Winchester had found him out, knocking on his door at dawn one day. At first, the hunter had been nice enough, explaining the plan he had to try and find a safe universe where he could send his kids while he dealt with personal issues, arguing they were in mortal danger.

“He looked really awful, probably hadn’t slept for days and he smelled like the bottom of a barrel,” Marlon explains to Dean, who doesn’t even bother being surprised. “I could have helped him, but at the time I really thought the guy had lost his marbles, you know?”

“Were the kids with him?”

“I didn’t see them. If they were, he’d left them in the car.”

If the kids hadn’t been with John, nor with Bobby, it meant they must have been with Pastor Jim. Dean can’t help smiling at the idea, thinking how nice it would be to see the man again.

“So… how did your daughter end up helping him? You sent him to her?”

Marlon lets out an offended scoff. “Of course not! He saw the pictures of Shantel on the mantle and in one of them, she’s wearing her Kansas U sweatshirt. Should have realized what he had in mind when he asked if any of my kids had inherited of my dreamwalker gene.” This time, Dean hears him utter a shaky sigh. “I should have known.”

Dean swallows, suddenly worried about the girl’s fate. “And… where’s your daughter now?”

“She’s here… came back home for Spring Break.”

“Oh, good! Say, do you think I could talk to her?” Dean asks, relieved.

“Look… there’s a reason we keep quiet about what we are. I’m only talking to you because you’re a friend of Bobby Singer’s, and he’s a friend of our people. But there’s no way I’ll let my daughter be used again to—”

“No! We don’t need your daughter to do anything,” Dean says. “I only need to ask her if she knows where John’s at.”

Mr. Robinson’s tone has turned cold. “She doesn’t.”

“Not to be disrespectful, sir, but—”

“I said she doesn’t know. Now please, leave us alone. I have nothing else to say to you.”

Dean doesn’t have time to say another word that the line goes dead. He huffs, bent on calling back when a strong hand takes the handset from him.

“They won’t help any more than they already have,” Bobby says, putting the phone back on its base. “Like I said, unless John Winchester needs you, he don’t call. The kid doesn’t know where he’s at and she won’t hear from him until he’s ready to cross back over to your world.”

“We don’t need to wait for Dad to kill Azazel, Dean,” Sam says. Dean turns to him, frowning.

“You know he needs to do this himself, right?”

“So you’d rather miss ganking him to wait for Dad? How long are we gonna wait, Dean?”

“According to your father’s journal, we only know where Azazel will be again in a little over a year, Dean,” Castiel says, him too frowning now. “Certainly you don’t want us to stay here until then, do you?”

The angel’s questions seem enough to deflate Dean’s resolve. He sighs and comes back to sit at the table. “Nah… you’re right. That’d be dumb.” He chews at his lower lip for a moment, then looks up at his brother. “What if we left the archangel blade and the list of sightings to Bobby so he can give them to Dad?”

“Dean, we can’t leave our most precious weapon in this world,” Castiel counters.

“It’s not like there’s any archangels left to kill in ours,” Deans says back. The flicker of hurt in Castiel’s eyes, although brief, is unmistakable and it makes Dean’s ears grow warm. “You know what I mean.”

“Nevertheless, I’d rather not part with the last thing to exist of my brothers, no matter how difficult they were. Plus, if I was able to come back from the Empty, I’m certain they could too. God might also decide to bring them back. We can’t take any chances.”

“Fine! We won’t leave it here, forget I said anything,” Dean says in a huff, shaking his head. “I still think—”

“Dean! Leave it, all right?” Sam intervenes, knowing how his brother could be like a dog with a bone when he had something in mind. “We’ll call as many people as we can, ask them to tell Dad where to go and why, and then we just hope he shows up before we get to kill Azazel.”

“What happens to the kids if he doesn’t show up? Still gotta wait for him, dontcha?”

Castiel, Sam, and Dean turn to Bobby. “What do you mean?” Sam asks.

“Well, let’s say you gank that asshole… great! But then what? Didn’t you come here so John could come and take his kids back? And how the hell are you gonna cross back into your universe?”

“We have a recipe… don’t need a dreamwalker to do this,” Dean says, then turns to Castiel. “Is that something we can give Bobby for Dad? Or are you against that too?”

“Of course, we can give him the spell. Except… if we leave the seal of Solomon here, then—”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah… whatever, man!”

“I didn’t say no, Dean. I just want to make sure you know leaving the gem here might be a problem if we ever need to cross universes again.”

“To be fair, we’d promised ourselves we’d never do that again,” Sam says, eager for some of the tension to be alleviated already. “And even if we leave the gem here, it’d only be until he crosses over to our world. All he’d need to do is bring it along so we can have it back.”

“Or we can use my own.”

Without another word, Bobby gets up, crooking a finger at them so they’ll follow him into the den. He goes to take an ornate wooden box from high on a bookshelf to place it on his desk. He opens it, its content rattling as he goes through it. “You mean that shit, right?” he asks when he pulls out a chain with a purple crystal as a pendant.

“Indeed it is,” Castiel confirms as he comes to take the jewel. “Except ours isn’t exactly like this. It hasn’t been made into a necklace. Where did you find it?

Bobby shrugs, his hands in his pocket. “Came upon that thing years ago… a hunter gave it to me as a payment for letting her hide here for some time.” He plunges a hand in the box to grab a handful of trinkets. “Got a shitload of stuff in there that I have no idea what they are. At least half of it, I’d say.”

The three men have their eyes on the content of the box, but it’s Castiel who sees it first. “Do you know what this is?” he asks Bobby, pointing at a familiar piece of jewelry.

Bobby lets the rest fall back into the box to take a closer look at the primitive looking artifact. “Haven’t found a thing about that one. Do you know?”

“It’s a GPS to God Himself,” Dean says as he comes closer. “Had one just like it before. Don’t bother tryin’, though… God turned it off.”

Bobby looks confused again. “What’s a GPS?”

“It’s like a radar type thing,” Sam only says, not in the mood to start explaining what GPS stands for. “That thing grows hot in the presence of God.” He thinks, then corrects himself. “I’d say it grows more bright than hot, but yeah, it’s been turned off because God doesn’t want to be found right now.”

It’s Dean’s turn to look pensive as he turns to Castiel. “So… our God… is it their God?” he asks Castiel, pointing a thumb at Bobby. “Like, does every universe get their own Chuck?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Of course, they don’t,” Castiel says, sounding as if Dean had personally offended him. “There’s only one God, you and I both know that.”

“But… I mean… do we really know that?”

“Guys,” Sam says to try and distract them, only to be ignored.

“You know God is everything and everywhere at once, don’t you? It only makes sense that our God is his God,” Castiel says, now also pointing at Bobby. It’s enough for the man to groan as he slams the box of amulets shut, startling Dean and Castiel into shutting up.

“It’s way too early for this crap,” he mumbles as he makes his way back to the kitchen. Before they can follow, they hear him open the fridge, followed by the telling sound of a can – probably beer – being popped open.

Glad that Castiel and Dean don’t seem to be on their way to starting their argument again, Sam points at the seal of Solomon resting in Castiel’s palm. “So… we do this? Give some of the other ingredients to Bobby and tell him to give it to Dad in case he doesn’t make it to Waterloo in time?”

While Castiel nods, Dean shrugs. “Might as well,” he says. “We’ll still try and have every hunter in America pass on the message, but we’ll give Bobby what he needs.” He smirks, suddenly in a better mood as he grabs at his brother’s hair and pulls on it.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam yelps, now holding onto his scalp.

Dean shows him the couple of hairs he’s been able to rip off. “See? I knew there had to be a reason for that damn mop on your head.”


	14. Chapter 14

After spending most of the day calling everybody Bobby could think of, Dean and Sam have to come to the conclusion that nobody had seen or heard from John Winchester in a while.

Other than Shantel Robinson, the last person to have seen him seemed to be Pastor Jim. It had been four days ago when he came to get his kids back after leaving them with him for close to a month.

Now, the three of them are sitting at the kitchen table while Bobby pours some canned meatball stew in bowls for them to eat. And even though Castiel doesn’t eat, he doesn’t refuse the man’s offering and eats it, trying to keep a straight face as the unsavory molecules bounce around on his tongue.

“So, whatcha gonna do now?” Bobby asks as he rips a roll to dip it in the sauce. “Goin’ to Waterloo, then?”

“Might as well… wanna join?” Dean offers, regretting it immediately. There’s no reason to be putting the man in danger like that. “Only kidding,” he adds quickly, hoping Bobby won’t have been tempted to accept.

“Pretty sure I’ll be more useful here manning the phones. If your daddy calls, or someone else who’s seen him, it’s better that I’d be here to answer, dontcha think?”

“I agree,” Castiel says with a nod. “Honestly, I could even go by myself so Sam and Dean could—”

“That’s not happening,” Dean says, pointing his fork at him.

“He’s right, Cas. We’re all doing this together,” Sam confirms, his tone not as menacing.

“May I remind you that we only have one archangel blade? If, for some unfathomable reason, Azazel is able to disarm me, how in the world are you two going to take him on?”

“Don’t give me that crap, Cas. You know we can hold our own, and if you’re disarmed or whatever, then we’ll be there to pick the blade up and use it, or toss it back over to you. You’re not going anywhere without us. Not now and not ever, ya hear?”

“Dean—”

“No, Cas! This is not a discussion, all right? You, and me, and Sam, we’re all going and that’s final.”

Dean’s not finished with his meal, but he still stands up to walk outside, letting the screen door slam shut in his back. Castiel shakes his head, his gaze on the door. When Sam looks about to get up, Castiel lifts a hand to stop him.

“I’ll go,” he only says before following Dean outside.

Bobby and Sam stay there, staring at the door in silence. Until Bobby clears his throat.

“What’s their deal?” he asks, to which Sam shrugs.

“Let’s just say that last year was a rough one, with Cas dying and then Dean’s body getting hijacked by Michael… lots of drama, and pain, and whatnot.”

“You seem to be dealing with it all just fine.”

Sam shrugs again, poking at a meatball in his bowl. “It’s different, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I love Cas like a brother, but…”

“Dean likes him more than you do?”

“Something like that. If I didn’t know my brother any better, I’d be tempted to go as far as saying that he may be in love with the guy.”

“Perfect way to get struck down by God Himself, if you ask me… falling in homo love with an angel of the Lord? He’d have to be an idjit…”

Remembering where they are, but mostly when, Sam turns to look at Bobby. At least, he doesn’t seem disgusted by the idea. More like puzzled.

“I think you should know God doesn’t care one bit about that stuff. You know, guy on guy, girl on girl… not a care in the world.”

“Makes sense, I guess. I mean… what does it really matter, right?” Bobby says as he eats the last of his bowl. He gets up to go to the stove. “Want some more? There’s plenty left,” he says, adding some more stew into his own bowl.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Sam answers, finally shoving in his mouth the meatball he’d been poking at.

Outside, Castiel finds Dean leaning against a car that, if it were black and in much better shape, would almost have been a replica of Dean’s Baby.

“If I had time to work on it, we could be traveling in style,” Dean says when he notices Castiel coming to join him. “The car we got now is nice enough, but it’s no Impala, you know?”

Castiel mirrors Dean’s position against the car. “Even if we could drive this one, it’d never be the same.”

“Of course, it wouldn’t.”

They stay side by side, both with their gazes upward.

“You want to talk about it?” Castiel asks after some time, now looking at the side of Dean’s face.

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know… anything you might feel the need to talk about.”

“No need to talk about nothing,” Dean assures him, keeping his own eyes obstinately on the starlit sky. Before Castiel can try and insist, Dean speaks again. “Is it the same?”

“Is what the same?”

“The sky… it’s the exact same, right?”

Castiel looks back up and smiles. “It is. I would believe that, just like God, the stars, the planets, and everything else up there is a permanent fixture.”

Dean’s low chuckle prompt Castiel’s eyes to fall back on him. “What?”

This time, Dean looks back at him, a soft smile on his face. “Really wanna start arguing about that shit again?”

Castiel shrugs, but says nothing.

“Why do you always wanna go and sacrifice yourself, Cas?”

“I could ask you the same question, Dean.”

Dean’s chuckles don’t sound as amused anymore. “I’m human and I’m dumb. You, you’re an angel, you’re supposed to know better.”

“I would think that it’s been established a while ago that I don’t know any better. What was it you called us once? A couple of dumbasses?”

“Pretty much, yeah. You, and me, and Sam… we’re the dumbest sons of bitches out there. You know that, right?”

“I do… and honestly, I don’t care all that much. We may be dumb, we still get things done.”

Dean turns away from him to look at the stars again. “One day, there won’t be any coming back. Not for you, not for Sammy, and not for me. One day, Billie’s gonna make sure we stay dead.”

“You should know that Death holds no power over the Empty, Dean.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Castiel agrees, also with his eyes upward again.

There’s a crunch in the gravel and then Sam speaks.

“You guys are all better now?” he asks as he comes to give them each a beer. Both Dean and Castiel accept the drink, the three of them soon clinking their bottles together.

“We are… not that we weren’t.”

“You seemed pretty pissed off, Dean. Think you even rattled Bobby a little.”

“That man’s  _ unrattlable _ …” Dean says, scoffing.

“That’s not even a word, Dean,” Sam counters.

“You know what I meant to say, don’t you? Then, it’s a word… doesn’t matter that I just invented it.”

“That’s not how words work, Dean,” Castiel offers back.

“You guys suck!”

He can hear Sam and Castiel laughing as he walks back into the kitchen, chugging down his beer as he does. Bobby’s nowhere to be seen and everything has been cleaned up. To some extent anyway, so he doesn’t feel too bad to leave his empty bottle on the counter. He promises himself to come and clean it up later.

“Bobby?”

“In the den!”

Dean joins him to see the man has switched to whiskey. Without a word, Bobby pours some in one of the empty glasses on his desk, then slides it toward him.

“I trust this is your poison, too?” he asks, to which Dean only nods as he takes the glass. “Yeah… we’re all pretty much alcoholics in this damn business. I just hate to think those poor kids grow up to be the same.” He looks up at Dean, somber. “Did your other me ever tried talking your dad outta doing this shit? I know I did… told him kids shouldn’t have to deal with this crap, that his job was to keep them as far away from it as possible.”

Dean sits on the sofa, smiling. “Yeah, he did. Pretty much the reason they had a falling out at some point. One of the reasons, anyway. What I can say for sure though, is that whatever time we spent here with you when we were kids, those were the best times we ever had. You were like our second dad, Bobby… I’m not even kidding.”

Bobby takes a sip, clears his throat, then takes another sip before speaking again. “Yeah, well… guess that won’t be happenin’ now. I mean… the kids are gone and if you kill that son of a bitch, John might just stop huntin’.”

“You know he won’t, Bobby… nobody ever stops hunting.”

Dean has seen Bobby sad before, just never this sad. “Then what’s the point? Why are you even here if it won’t change a damn thing?”

“Because this is our only chance to make things better. Maybe if we can shift history just a little bit, the world won’t be so crappy.” It’s Dean’s turn to feel sad, but he swallows it, along with the last of his serving of whiskey. “And if we do this right, maybe our family can live the life they were meant to live… me, and Sammy, with both Mom and Dad alive and hunting together.”


	15. Chapter 15

After spending the night at Bobby’s, the guys are back on the road a little after dawn the next day. Their first stop is a cheap motel a bit outside of Waterloo, mostly because it’s attached to a diner that looks halfway decent.

“What’s different about curly fries?” Castiel asks as he reads the standing menu on the table.

“Well… they’re curly, like this,” Dean explains, twirling a finger in the air. “And sometimes, they’re spicy too.”

“They’re not that much different from regular fries,” Sam provides while his brother rolls his eyes.

A waitress comes to take their order at that same moment, confirming that their curly fries are indeed spicy, which is enough for the three men to order them. Sam also orders a Club Sandwich while Dean goes for the usual bacon cheeseburger. Castiel, unsurprisingly, doesn’t order anything other than the fries.

“So you don’t mind if I’m the one that goes to see the cops?” Sam asks as they wait for their food. “I mean, Bobby only had that one FBI badge to spare… the sooner we track down Belinda Stanhope, the better.”

“We could try and find a place to make two more IDs,” Dean says as he takes the badge from his own pocket to look at it. “Looks easy enough to replicate.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t think it’s necessary… plus, I’m pretty sure public computers aren’t advanced enough to do this just yet. I mean, I don’t think I’d know how. And anyway, all I gotta do is ask for the woman’s address.”

“Which they might not have if they’ve never had anything to do with her. I still think going to the DMV would be our best bet.”

“That’s if she even has a driver’s license.”

Dean scoffs at his brother. “Everyone’s got a driver’s license, Sam. Believe me, you can’t go anywhere interesting in these parts without a car.” Still, he relents, leaning back on the seat as he slides the ID over on the table. “But yeah, okay, you go… doesn’t matter, really. Shouldn’t take too long anyway, should it?”

“Not if we’re lucky, no. If the police can’t help, I’ll go to the DMV… might only take a bit longer there.”

“And what if they can’t help either?” Castiel asks. Neither Sam nor Dean gets to respond, the waitress already coming back with their food. Sam purses his lips at the sad looking sandwich while Dean does the same at the sight of his burger. All that really looks edible are the curly fries, which Castiel has already started munching on.

“It’d suck to die from food poisoning in an alternate universe, wouldn’t it?” Dean says, not waiting for anyone to answer before taking a bite of his cheeseburger; he’s just that hungry.

Sam only nods as he picks at his sandwich, taking out the wilted lettuce and half of the barely cooked bacon strips to only leave the slices of turkey loaf and tomatoes. At least, there’s enough mayonnaise in there to mask the taste of the poor choice of meat.

The only upside has to be that the fries are plenty on all plates. When they’re done with their meals, there’s not one bit of potato left while Sam’s sandwich is only half eaten and even Dean hasn’t finished his burger. While he goes to pay their bill at the counter, Sam and Castiel walk outside to wait for him.

“M’gonna have to eat again soon,” Dean announces as he joins them in the parking lot. The three men start walking back to the motel. “Even their pies look nasty, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pie I didn’t wanna eat. We’re gonna have to find something else later. M’not going back there!”

“So glad we angels don’t have to eat to survive. I mean… it’s always so complicated, don’t you think?” Castiel says, to which Dean huffs.

“It’s not complicated, and food’s awesome. Most of the time, anyway.”

Castiel shrugs as they wait for Sam to unlock their room’s door. “Food may be awesome, it does come with very annoying side effects. Having to eliminate what you’ve consumed is an awful process in itself.”

“Everybody poops, Cas!” Dean replies as he follows Sam into the room. He ignores how Castiel mumbles “Angels don’t poop.”, instead rolling his eyes at his brother who just shakes his head.

“I’ll change into a suit, and then I’ll go to the police station. Are you guys coming or are you gonna stay here? I mean, I shouldn’t be gone all that long.”

Dean looks at Castiel and arches an eyebrow. The angel shrugs back at him as he goes to sit on one of the beds and grabs the remote from the bedside table. He props his feet on the bed and leans on the headboard before turning on the TV to start channel surfing.

“I guess we’re staying in, then,” Dean surmises for himself, his brother already in the bathroom to freshen up and change. “Gimme that,” he says as he goes to take the remote out of Castiel’s hand.

The angel easily moves the device out of his reach and scowls at him. “I had it first, Dean. I’m trying to find something for us to watch.”

“You’re going too fast to even see anything. You gotta at least pause for a second or two.”

“I may be going too fast for your human senses, but I can determine quickly enough what looks interesting and what doesn’t.” As he says that, he stops on some kind of old nature show he and Sam would watch as kids. Except Dean’s not a kid anymore and he couldn’t care less about—what are those? Lemmings?

He motions at the TV, hoping Castiel would just change it already. “That’s boring,” he says. “Don’t you already know everything about everything anyway?

Of course, Dean knows Castiel doesn’t know everything, but he’s pretty sure nature and animals have no secrets for him. “Plus, lemmings are dumb,” he continues when Castiel doesn’t change the channel. “They see one stupid guy fall off a cliff, they think it’s a great idea, and they all follow him down that same cliff. Stupid!”

“That is a vast misconception, Dean,” Castiel says without looking away from the screen. “Lemmings are not suicidal creatures.”

“Ha! You’re wrong!” Dean argues, now sitting on the other bed. “They made a movie about it, and you can see the whole bunch of ’em just throwing themselves in the ocean and crap. Guess I was wrong, huh? You don’t know everything.”

This time, Castiel turns to glare at Dean. “When Metatron gifted me with all the written stories he’s ever read, which is all of them, he also infused me with some movie knowledge. The movie you’re thinking of was a deceitful one and had nothing to do with reality.”

“It was a documentary, Cas. It… so what, you’re saying that this lemming thing is not true? They don’t go and hurl themselves off of cliffs and shit?”

Castiel only shakes his head, his gaze already back on the TV.

“Well… shit!”

“Well shit, what?” Sam asks as he comes out of the bathroom, looking like the FBI agent he’s not.

“Did you know lemmings don’t really jump off cliffs?”

“Yeah… I mean, why would they?” He glances at the TV and smirks. “You’re talking about that movie made years ago? T’was all fake, man. You knew that, right?”

Dean shrugs, a bit of heat in his cheeks. “S’not like I look up lemmings for no reason. M’not a giant nerd like you,” he offers, which makes both Sam and Castiel chuckle. Still, nobody says another word about it, Sam coming to stand in front of his brother with his hand out.

“Can you gimme some of that 1986 money? I’ll stop and buy some dinner on my way back… I’m already starting to feel hungry.”

“What are you gonna be getting?”

“I don’t know, I’ll see what’s out there.”

Dean only nods as he fishes a couple of twenty dollar bills out of his wallet to slap them in Sam’s open hand. “Don’t go crazy, we ain’t got that much cash left.”

“Thanks… I won’t,” he only says as he exits the room, leaving Dean and Castiel to watch the nature show. Not that Dean’s too excited about that. As for Castiel, he looks very much invested and none of Dean’s attempts to distract him seem to be working.

“Pretty sure if we kept looking, we could find _Scooby-Doo_ playing. That’d be fun, wouldn’t it? Seeing our old pals on TV,” he eventually says because, why not?

“If we could find the coyote that can never catch the running bird, I’d rather watch that,” Castiel replies. Still, he keeps the channel obstinately where it is, enthralled by the rodents on the screen.

“It’s called a roadrunner, Cas.”

“I know.”

Dean rolls his eyes and huffs, bored out of his mind. He should have insisted on going to see the cops in place of Sam. His nerd of a brother would no doubt have been over the moon to be watching nature crap with Castiel. If at least the angel had found something about sharks, now that would have been worth watching.

When Dean once more tries to go and grab the remote, Castiel is still able to move it out of the way. What he hadn’t expected was for Dean to jump on the bed and straddle his legs. It gives him all the advantage he needs to slap the remote out of Castiel’s hand before propelling himself to land on it before Castiel can take it back.

“I win!” Dean yells, now half sprawled over Castiel’s legs and holding with both hands onto the remote he keeps hidden under his body as if his life’s depending on it.

“Fuck lemmings!”


	16. Chapter 16

When Sam comes back to the room with a bucket of fried chicken and sides, Castiel and Dean are each sitting on a bed, still watching a show about animals.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asks when he notices a protruding bump on his brother’s forehead. Dean doesn’t answer, turning to glare at Castiel instead.

“It was an accident,” Castiel says after letting out a loud sigh. “I never wanted to hurt you, Dean. And, in my defense, you started it.”

“Like hell, I did,” Dean counters, hissing when he puts a finger on the purple blemish. “You’re the one who decided to hog the remote. I just wanted to find something we would both have enjoyed watching.”

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment as he drops the food on the small table. “Dinner’s served,” he only says. It doesn’t matter that they ate less than three hours ago, Sam is hungry enough to want to indulge in some good old  _ Kentucky Fried Chicken _ . He hadn’t been able to resist when he drove in front of it, partly because it was still named that rather than  _ KFC _ . In there lays the hope that it will taste as good as it did when he was a kid.

“So? Found our gal?” Dean asks as he comes to sit with him. Castiel doesn’t move from the bed, but his attention is now fully on the brothers rather than on the TV.

“Cops had nothing, kinda wondered why the FBI would ask them and not know already. I gave them a bogus excuse and then I went to the DMV,” Sam explains before taking a bite out of a crispy chicken leg, ignoring his brother’s smug expression. “We’re lucky… there’s only one Belinda Stanhope in town. She lives about twenty minutes from here.”

Castiel turns off the TV and comes to stand next to the table. He grabs a fry from the box between Sam and Dean to put it in his mouth. He chews slowly, a concentrated look on his face.

“The curly fries from earlier were much better,” he only says before going back to sit on the bed, at the foot this time.

“Not the most important thing right now, Cas,” Dean says as he dips a couple of fries in the gravy before shoving them in his mouth.

“No need to be such a dick to him,” Sam says before destroying his second piece of chicken.

Dean points a greasy finger at his own forehead and huffs. “I’m the dick?” he says, also grabbing himself a second piece of fried meat.

“I’m sorry, all right? How much longer are you going to be mad at me?”

Instead of answering, Dean turns to glare at the angel as he chews his food. Castiel looks right about to respond, but Sam intervenes before he can say a single word.

“Why don’t you call Bobby, Cas? Give him the number and address for the motel and for Belinda Stanhope. He needs everything he can give Dad if the word ever gets to him.” He lifts his elbow. “Take the notebook in my pocket, Bobby’s number and everything else is in there.”

Castiel grabs another fry along with the notebook before going back to sit on the bed to make the call.

“Hello, Bobby. This is Castiel calling,” he says after a bit of time, the brothers keeping their eyes on him as they eat. “Yes, we arrived a while ago. Sam asked that I call to relay you the information to give John Winchester if he ever calls you.” He nods, his brows furrowed. “They’re eating chicken. Fried chicken from Kentucky… that’s what the box says.”

Dean almost laughs when he sees Castiel rolling his eyes. “Of course, I didn’t call to talk about dinner. We’re staying at the Greenfield Motel over on Highway 63, in Waterloo, Iowa… 319-555-8896, room twenty-four… yes.”

Castiel stays on the phone for about another minute, providing Bobby with all the available information before hanging up. Dean and Sam are still plowing through their meal, only not as ravenously anymore.

Without a word, Castiel comes to join them and presses a finger against Dean’s forehead. He doesn’t have time to move away before his bruise disappears. Dean glares at him, batting the hand aside to touch his forehead, which doesn’t hurt anymore. “Why did you do that? Don’t you have to access the Host to heal people?”

“I accessed it, but only for half a second. If we’re lucky, nobody will have noticed.”

“Since when are we ever lucky?”

The three men stop talking and even breathing as they wait for Heaven’s fury to fall upon them, expecting the room to start trembling and lights to flicker. When nothing of the sort happens, they each let out a relieved breath.

“Don’t you do this again, you hear?” Dean says, pointing a menacing finger at Castiel. “We can’t deal with angels on top of everything else going on. Bruises and cuts can heal on their own.”

“I won’t…” Castiel lifts a defiant chin before speaking again. “Unless I really have to.”

“I give up,” Dean says as he wipes his hands with one of the provided moist towelettes. “You deal with him.”

Both Castiel and Sam watch as Dean exits the room, letting the door slam on his back. It only takes a minute for Castiel to start worrying.

“Shouldn’t we be following after him?” he asks Sam who just shrugs.

“You know Dean… he only needed an excuse to go and have a drink at that bar next to the diner. Surprised he hasn’t gone there before now.”

The explanation does nothing to reassure Castiel. “I still don’t think we should split up. This world is not ours, we can’t afford to lose sight of each other.”

Sam drops his unfinished chicken thigh in with the rest of the scraps and sighs as he gets up to go wash his hands in the bathroom. “Go after him then, if you’re so worried. I’m telling you, he hasn’t gone far.” He comes back into the room, wiping his hands with a towel. “Go… I won’t be leaving here, so you don’t need to worry about me. And anyway, somebody’s gotta stay in case Dad shows up. Please… I’d rather be on my own than have to look at you sulking.”

Without another word, Sam flops onto the bed Castiel had been sitting on earlier, grabbing the remote to turn the TV back on. “This bed’s mine now. You don’t mind, right? I mean, it’s not like you need to sleep.”

Castiel shakes his head, already with a hand on the door handle. “You’re not leaving, right?”

“No! Just go, already!”

Castiel nods and walks outside. The car they’ve been using is still there, which means Sam must be right about Dean going to the bar. When he walks in, Castiel easily spots Dean sitting at the counter and comes to sit next to him. Dean notices the angel and huffs, shaking his head before looking the other way. Castiel doesn’t say a word, only pointing at Dean’s glass when the bartender comes to see him.

Once his own glass is put in front of him, Castiel nods his thanks then clinks it to Dean’s who doesn’t react. Instead, he keeps his gaze on a brunette sitting further down the bar. He swallows the content of his glass and is about to go and see the young woman when Castiel’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“Dean…”

He shrugs Castiel off, ignoring him in favor of going to see the girl. Sadly for him, she really doesn’t seem receptive, sending confused glances over Dean’s shoulder at the man squinting at them. She quickly excuses herself and goes to find somewhere else to sit, leaving Dean to come back empty-handed. As he does, he glares at Castiel then signals the bartender to give him another drink. Only when he gets his glass does he finally speak.

“If all you’re gonna do is cockblock me, I’d rather you just left, Cas.”

But Castiel doesn’t go anywhere, so it’s Dean who moves to go sit where the girl had been before. He soon orders yet another drink while Castiel switches to beer as he keeps a watchful eye on his friend. Once in a while, Dean will look back to give him the finger or roll his eyes, sometimes both. Until there are no more girls to flirt with that haven’t already said no to him.

“Didn’t think the chicks in the eighties were such prudes,” he spits when he comes back to sit next to Castiel.

“Maybe they don’t like being courted by middle-aged men.”

The offended squeak Dean lets out would probably have been funny to anyone else but Castiel.

“You take that back, you asshole!”

“You know I’m right, Dean. These women seem quite young, don’t you think?” He tilts his head as he observes a cluster of ladies hanging out near the jukebox. “I guess it’s hard to say… they have lots of makeup on, and their clothes are rather revealing. I can see how you might not have realized how young they are.”

“Jeez, Cas… they’re not that young! I mean, kids don’t hang out in a dive bar next to a truck stop. If they’re old enough to be here, then they’re old enough to wanna get with me.” He looks over his shoulder to observe the same group of girls Castiel had been looking at. Suddenly, his shoulders drop and he turns back around, looking defeated. “When the hell did I turn into the creepy uncle?” he says under his breath before once again gulping down his serving of bourbon.

All Castiel can offer as a response is a shrug and a sympathetic clap on the back.

“Yeah… fuck you too, Cas!” Dean says with a wink as he holds a finger up to order another drink.


	17. Chapter 17

Dean is the last one to wake up the next morning. And when he does, it’s with a pounding headache and his mouth dry like the Sahara.

“Good morning, Dean,” Sam says brightly, making Dean wince.

“Shh… keep it down, would ya?” he says, holding an arm over his face to temper the brightness in the room. “Where’s the coffee?”

“First off, I’m not even talking loud. Second, your boyfriend’s gone to get your coffee, your highness.”

“Real funny, bitch! If anyone was to get a boyfriend here, it’d be you. You’re halfway there with all the hair.”

“It may be so, but I slept alone. Can you say the same, jerk?”

That’s all it takes for Dean to sit up, the light burning his retinas suddenly not all that important. He looks at the empty space in the bed next to him, frowning. “What the hell are you talkin’ ’bout? I slept alone.”

The gleeful expression on Sam’s face is enough to make Dean worried. He swallows as his brother comes to show him a picture he took on his phone earlier that morning. On the screen, Dean is seemingly dead to the world with an arm wrapped around Castiel’s midsection. The angel is sitting next to him – clothed, thank God – fully awake and squinting at the camera, most probably wondering why Sam would be taking a picture.

“What the hell? Why did you have to go and take that picture for?”

Sam shrugs as he evades Dean’s attempt at grabbing the device. “What can I say… you guys look so cute together.”

“Sammy! I swear to God, you erase that shit from your phone right now, or else—”

 

    
[Impalartsociopath](http://impalartsociopath.tumblr.com/post/177530525225/reset-masterpost)

 

Dean doesn’t have time to say or do anything threatening to his brother before he locks himself in the bathroom. “Taking a shower!” he yells while Dean bangs a fist on the door.

“Yeah, well, I’m throwing away your clothes!” Dean yells back. He goes to his brother’s duffel bag, only hiding it under his bed rather than actually throwing the clothes away. He’s not that much of an asshole.

“Dean? Sam?” Castiel calls as he barges in, holding his angel blade high. He stops in his tracks, blinking at the apparent lack of danger. “Dean? Why were you screaming? Where’s Sam?”

“Sam’s being an ass and now he’s hiding in the bathroom.” Dean squints at him. “Where’s the coffee?”

“In the parking lot. I thought we were under attack.”

Dean walks toward the door to see a cardboard tray and three paper cups lying in a pool of coffee right next to their car. He has the decency to blush as he crosses his arms over his naked chest. “Yeah… well… it’s all Sam’s fault. And… I mean… what were you doing in my bed?”

Without answering, Castiel rolls his eyes and turns back to leave the room. “I’ll go get some more coffee. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone, would you?”

Luckily enough – for him anyway – Sam doesn’t come out of the bathroom before Castiel comes back with more coffee. He immediately finds his duffel under Dean’s bed, mostly because it’s always where he’d hide it when menacing Sam to throw out his stuff. And before they can get in another inane argument, Castiel convinces Dean to go take a shower, promising they’ll find a _Biggerson’s_ to have some actual coffee and a nice enough breakfast.

“What if Dad calls or comes by?” Dean still asks as he goes through his own bag to find clean clothes.

“We’ll leave a message with the guy at the reception. Dad will know to either wait or leave a message for us on how to join him,” Sam says, to which Castiel nods. “I really can’t go back to that place to eat. It’s awful, and the coffee tastes like it’s made out of old gym socks.”

Half an hour later, they’re sitting in a booth at _Biggerson’s_ , the aroma of much nicer coffee and pancakes floating all around them. “Damn… does it always smell this good in here?” Dean asks, to which Sam shakes his head.

“Not anymore, no. This place really smells like when we were kids… remember?”

“Yeah… I guess that’s when they used real butter. None of that healthy no-cholesterol-no-gluten-zero-calories shit. When even those _Ritz_ crackers tasted good.”

“I too have noticed a difference in how things taste,” Castiel says as he looks over the menu. “I still mainly taste molecules, but somehow, the molecules taste better in this universe. I’ve been wondering why.”

“Nothing’s real anymore, man.”

“Says the guy who can’t even stomach the thought of eating any kind of vegetable.”

The brothers keep arguing through the whole meal, Castiel keeping to himself most of the time. Even when Dean tries to have him agree with whatever he’s talking about with Sam, Castiel just shakes his head and looks out the window instead.

It’s only when they’ve gone back to the room that Sam decides to say something about it. Dean has gone to the front desk to check if John has called or stopped by, so they’re alone when he asks if Castiel is feeling okay.

“I am, thank you, Sam. I only find yours and Dean’s bickering a bit tiring.”

“You’re an angel, you don’t get tired.”

“You know what I mean. You both just talk constantly, about utter nonsense, and I don’t see the point of it all. Is it this world that’s doing this to you? Do you feel different, Sam?”

Castiel looks even more concerned when Sam starts laughing.

“I don’t see what’s so funny. I’m truly worried about yours and your brother’s mental health.”

As Sam’s laughter dissolves, he holds a hand up, placating. “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just… I guess we’re in a good enough mood to be a little less serious.”

“Why?”

Sam shrugs, still with a grin on his face. “Not sure why… I guess we just are. And when we’re in a good mood, Dean and I, we like to shoot the shit. It’s just harmless fun. A bit like you two when you start bickering or spar over a TV remote.”

Castiel pinches his lips at that. “Again, he started that. Are you certain it has nothing to do with being in this universe?”

Sam shrugs again as he sits on the bed. “I’ve been feeling pretty good for a while now. I mean… Lucifer’s dead, Mom and Jack are back, Michael’s… Michael’s gone and done with.”

“I see… would you say you and Dean are feeling more carefree, then? Is this what’s happening?”

“I guess. I mean, you and I both know it won’t be like that for long, but it kinda feels nice not be in a constant state of impending doom, you know?”

“I understand.”

Dean opens the door at that moment, giving his brother and friend a curious glance as he goes to sit on his bed. “Nothing from Dad or even Bobby,” he announces. “So… what’s the plan? Wanna go sit outside Belinda’s house?”

“Not sure the residents would appreciate seeing three men in a car spending the day in their neighborhood. Might as well wait until it’s dark,” Sam says.

“What are we s’posed to do until then?” Dean says, pouting. “We could go drive around maybe?”

“Dad could still show up or call. We’d better stay put.”

Dean huffs again as he takes his modern phone out. “Can’t get nothing on this shit. Can’t even play games without the internet, did you know that?”

Sam doesn’t answer, going for the remote instead and powering up the TV. It’s still on the channel Castiel had been watching, and that he himself had watched later. And there’s another episode of that nature show on.

“You mind if I sit with you?” Castiel asks Sam who moves a little to the side to give him some room.

“Don’t you think we should come up with an attack strategy?” Dean says, not at all interested in the mating ritual of partridges.

“We drive up to Belinda’s home, we wait until Azazel shows up, then I kill him,” Castiel answers without looking away from the TV.

“Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that? You can’t really fly unnoticed, can you? I mean, you can’t even fly, period.”

“I can still hide in the next plane, Dean. I’ll be waiting for him in the child’s bedroom.”

“And a Prince of Hell can’t see you in the next plane, Cas? Pretty sure he can, just like he probably can see your true form.”

It’s Sam who turns the TV off. “He’s not wrong, Cas. I mean, isn’t your true form enormous?”

“I still know how to conceal myself, Sam. Azazel shouldn’t be able to see or even sense me.”

“Shouldn’t?”

“Won’t. Azazel won’t see or sense me. It doesn’t matter that he’s a Prince of Hell, I’m still more powerful than he is, especially when armed with Michael’s blade.”

In saying that, he lets the weapon slide out of his sleeve.

“One thing is certain, this world’s Azazel will be dying tonight.”


	18. Chapter 18

It’s Dean who insists that they go get their dinner in a drive-thru so they can eat in the car as they keep an eye on the Stanhopes’ house. The sun has just set when they park across the street to wait for Azazel to make his move.

The brothers are sitting up front with Castiel in the backseat. They eat their food in silence, Castiel once more with his own serving of french fries he’s happily plowing through. They’re only half done when a familiar rumble echoes nearby.

“Is that—” Sam starts, only to be cut off by Dean’s “Baby…”.

The next second, the Impala comes into view with John Winchester at the wheel. He stops in front of the house, only for a short moment, then goes to park further down the street.

“You think he spoke to Bobby? Is that why he’s here?” Dean asks, his gaze never leaving the now idle car.

“It’s either that or he got here on his own. You should go talk to him before he does anything stupid. He’s seen you, Dean, he knows who you are. I’m a stranger,” Sam explains when his brother scoffs at him.

“Oh, yeah, okay… good idea.”

“I don’t think—”

Dean doesn’t listen to Castiel has to say and gets out of the car to make his way toward the Impala. He knows his dad and he must have seen him already. The one thing he knows for sure is that John has to see him clearly enough to know who he is. Which is why he purposefully walks further than the car to stand under the street light in front of it.

Castiel and Sam watch nervously as Dean slowly puts his hands up. “It’s me, Dad… it’s Dean,” they hear him say as he takes a couple of steps toward the car. His eyes scrunch closed when John shines the beams in his face before getting out of the car.

“What the hell are you doing here? Where are my boys?” John says as he comes to stand in Dean’s face. “I told you to watch over them… you didn’t bring them back here, did you?”

Sam can’t help the tiny sense of pride he feels when he sees his brother square his shoulders, not letting himself be intimidated by their father’s stature. Whatever he says next isn’t loud enough for them to hear, but John turns to glance at the car they’re sitting in, nodding as he goes back to sit in his car and shut the beams off.

Instead of coming back, Dean gestures for them to come before going to sit in the passenger seat of the Impala.

“You think it’s a good idea?” Castiel asks.

Sam nods, confident. “Dean wouldn’t have told us to come otherwise.”

Castiel doesn’t insist and follows Sam into the other car, sitting behind the driver while Sam slides in behind his brother. Not that it’s surprising, but it’s not hard to see that John Winchester isn’t all that happy about the situation.

“Who’s the third one? he asks after barely glancing at Castiel.

“He’s a friend of ours, Dad. His name is—”

“Call me John,” he says, cutting Dean off.

Dean swallows and nods. “Yeah… John. So, that’s our friend Castiel. He’s an angel. Didn’t Bobby tell you?”

“Angels don’t exist,” John counters, now looking at Castiel through the rearview mirror. “And why would Bobby have told me about that? Haven’t talked to him in a while.”

“I thought it was Bobby who told you we’d be here… anyway, doesn’t matter. Angels do exist,” Dean confirms. “They’re mostly dicks, but Cas is cool. He’s family, all right?”

Sam, getting a bit anxious in the back seat, clears his throat. “Look, we can talk about all of this later, okay? Right now, we’re here because you need our help to kill Azazel. I don’t know what you have planned, but unless you have the Colt, you won’t—”

“I’m still waiting to know where my kids are,” John says, looking back at Dean now. “You said you’d explain everything once we got in the car and the others joined us. They’re here, now where the hell are my kids?”

Dean glances at Sam and then Castiel before looking back at his father. “They’re with Mom,” he says in a prudent tone. “We got her back, John. We got Mary back.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, we’re not,” Sam says as he shows his phone to his father. On the screen is a picture Jack had taken of the two of them when they prepared a pie for Dean’s birthday. “She came back a couple of years ago, at the same age she was when she died.”

“How is this possible?”

“It’s a very, very long story,” Dean says before Sam can say anything else. “One we don’t have time to tell right now. All you really need to know is that the kids are safe and that we came here to help you kill Azazel.”

The openness that had been gracing John’s features only a second ago melts away instantly. “I don’t need your help. I can do this on my own. I need to do this on my own.”

“Do you even have the Colt?” Sam asks.

John turns to him as he slides the weapon out of the inside of his jacket, just not all the way out. “You mean this old thing?”

The brothers both sigh in relief; this John is on a much different path than their own father had been. Maybe coming here hadn’t been necessary after all.

“Look… I get that you wanna kill him yourself, but Cas is an angel, he can make himself invisible. He’ll be waiting for the demon to come and kill him the second he appears. It’s an infallible plan.”

“No plans are ever infallible,” John counters, looking back at Castiel now. “Do you also have a Colt?”

“Better than that,” Castiel says, showing off the archangel blade to the hunter.

“What the hell is this thing?”

“An archangel blade… the only other weapon that can kill a creature such as Azazel.”

A weird light shines in John’s eye when he sees the angelic weapon. “I’ve never seen anything like it… it’s beautiful. May I?” he asks, holding out a hand toward Castiel.

“You’re not John Winchester,” Castiel growls as he stabs the man in the shoulder. Dean and Sam can only watch, horrified to see their father’s body crackling with golden electricity as his eyes turn yellow. Even though he is visibly in pain, the demon chuckles.

“John Winchester’s dead, boys,” the demon says in a snarl. “He’s been dead for a couple of days now. I was so pissed when I learned that he sent my special boy away, I had to make him pay.” The demon turns his attention to Sam, the grimacing smile on his face making him shiver. “Would you look at how big and strong my blood made you, Sammy? You’re the perfect vessel, boy. Oh, how Lucifer will enjoy riding you.”

Azazel howls in pain when Castiel twists the blade still stuck in his flesh. Dean uses the momentum to take the gun from him. “What now?” he mouths to his brother.

Sam doesn’t have time to answer, Castiel being thrown on him when Azazel is able to pull the blade out of his shoulder. Before the demon can exit through John’s mouth or try to kill any of them, Dean finds the will to do what he hadn’t been able to do all those years ago.

The sound of the Colt discharging in the confined space is deafening. This and the agonizing screams of the demon as he burns away to nothing.

“Sam? Cas? You guys okay?” Dean asks after a while, unable to look away from his father’s dead body.

If they answer, he doesn’t hear them. He only tears his gaze away when he feels his brother’s hands wrap over his to take the gun away from him. He looks up to see the both of them speaking, but he can’t hear their voices.

“I can’t hear you,” he says, pointing at his ears. “Can you hear me?”

It’s Castiel who answers this time, shaking his head while hovering his hands over his ears.

“Dad’s dead,” Dean then says, unhelpfully. He looks at his brother when he places one of his impossibly large hands over his shoulder. “He’s dead, Sammy,” he repeats, this time letting the tears flow free.


	19. Chapter 19

Close to no word is said as the Impala makes its way back to Sioux Falls with Dean at the wheel. Both brothers keep their eyes forward, preferring to avoid looking at their father’s lifeless form on the back seat. It doesn’t matter that he’s hidden under a blanket, they still know it’s him under there.

Before leaving, they discussed the possibility of putting him in the trunk, but neither really meant it. When Castiel confirmed he wouldn’t mind sitting alongside John to keep an eye on him, they had only nodded, relieved. Once they sat their father in the back seat, they never looked at him again. Not until they came to a stop in Bobby’s salvage yard. 

Once beyond the gate, Dean shuts the engine and sighs, needing a minute to find the courage to go and get his father out. He can feel Sam beside him going through the same thing and reaches a hand out, palm up. Sam’s hand soon wraps around it, but only for a second. Holding hands is not something that grown men, brothers or not, should do.

Or maybe they should, seeing they don’t need more than that to find the courage they need. As one, they each open their door to get out. Castiel is already standing outside, well aware that the brothers will want to be doing this together. He goes to join Bobby who’s standing at the foot of the porch.

“John didn’t make it,” he simply says. 

“Balls!” the man says in a sigh, taking his trucker cap off to card a hand in his hair before putting the cap back on. “All right, I’ve got wood scraps in the back… care to help?” He points his chin at the scrapyard, already taking a step toward it.

“No!”

Both Castiel and Bobby turn to see John’s wrapped body now lying on the ground and Dean walking toward them with Sam following close behind.

“We’re not burning him, all right? Not right now.”

“Why not?”

“His kids… they gotta be there, Bobby.”

“Dean—” Bobby starts, but Sam raises a hand so he’ll stop.

“He’s right, Bobby. And—and I’m pretty sure Mom would wanna be there too. I mean, it’s not her husband, not really, but it also kinda is, you know? It’s the only chance she’s ever gonna get to mourn her husband properly.”

Bobby squints at the brothers. “So what? You want me to keep him on ice until you come back from wherever? How long’s that gonna take?”

It’s Castiel who voices what Dean or Sam don’t seem able to say. “I think what they want is to bring him back to our universe, Bobby.”

Dean lifts his gaze to meet Castiel’s and gives him a slight nod, grateful.

Bobby harrumphs and adjusts his trucker hat again. “You sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I get it, but—oh, all right, gotcha!” He shakes his head, petting his mustache as he thinks. “I may have a couple of body bags in my basement, but we’re gonna have to wait a couple of days to put him in one. He won’t fit in that seating position, we gotta wait for that rigor mortis shit to ease.”

Both Sam and Dean visibly wince, but they say nothing about that. Instead, Sam just looks back at him, his eyebrows almost all the way up to his hairline. “You got body bags?” he says.

“Don’t ask,” Bobby only answer, then snaps his fingers. “Wait here, think I got a chair back there,” he says as he walks into the salvage yard to disappear behind a pile of wrecked cars.

“What the hell does he need a chair for?” Dean asks Sam and Castiel who both shrug because they have no clue either.

When Bobby comes back, he’s pushing an old rusty wheelchair. It squeaks and one of the wheels is pretty banged up, but it still looks sturdy enough. Bobby comes to a stop next to John and secures the brakes before looking up at the trio.

“Castiel… would you mind helping me?” he asks, but Dean stops the angel with a splayed hand over his chest.

“I’ll go,” he says as he goes to join Bobby, Sam once more following closely behind him.

Castiel stays behind as he watches them work to transfer John’s stiff form into the chair. He thinks back to Mary and the children, and how she had told the older versions of her sons that she’d want to cross over to this universe with the kids and their father. Mostly because she knows, just like Castiel does, that this world needs their own versions of Sam and Dean so it doesn’t turn out like the apocalyptic nightmare they had visited.

He also knows that trying to tell Dean or even Sam about any of this right now wouldn’t go so well. This is not something they want to hear. And even if they heard it, they would probably choose not to believe it. They’ve just lost their father, once more, and there’s no room for any more grief at the moment.

It takes a little while for John to be placed and secured in the chair. The blanket is still over his body, but it’s not enough not to see how he’d kind of crooked because he’s already gone too stiff to move. After a while, Bobby turns to walk toward some kind of big metal shed a little further out. Sam follows, pushing the wheelchair with Dean closing the march. And although Castiel is tempted to join them, he goes to sit on the porch stairs instead.

The three men soon walk out, Bobby closing the door and locking it behind him. They all make their way back toward the house, Castiel getting back to his feet as he waits for them. Bobby climbs the stairs to go back inside. Sam does the same, squeezing Castiel’s shoulder as he walks past him. Dean doesn’t follow, instead stopping to stand in front of Castiel with his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the ground.

“What is that place?”

Dean shrugs, still looking downward. “A shed… Bobby mostly paints or sands cars in there. There’s AC and aeration, so Dad can be—hmm—you know… until we’re ready to go.”

Castiel nods, extending his arm to wrap a comforting hand over his friend’s bicep. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I wish things hadn’t happened this way.”

Only then does Dean look up. Castiel swallows at the pain in his friend’s eyes. “No need to be sorry, Cas. You didn’t do nothing wrong.”

“You know what I mean.”

Dean shakes his head, dropping his gaze again. “I killed my dad, Cas.”

“Well, technically—”

“Still my father, Cas! And it hurts like shit.” He looks back up, his eyes now shining with unshed tears. “How the hell am I supposed to face Mom now? Or even myself, like… literally.” He huffs, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I’ve never liked myself all that much, but this is a new low, man. Even for me.”

“Dean, you had no choice. And that wasn’t your father, not anymore. Azazel said so himself, your father had been gone already.”

“You don’t really believe that shit, do you? You and I both know that he was still in there. If you didn’t, you would have stabbed him in the heart, not the shoulder.”

Castiel nods, forced to agree. “You’re right,” he says, as softly as he can. “I still had hope that your father could have been saved from Azazel.”

Dean wipes a hand over his face, prompting a couple of tears to stream down his cheeks. He chuckles and wipes his face again as he sits on the stairs. Castiel sits beside him without a word. It takes some time for Dean to speak again, keeping his gaze on the shed as he does.

“How did you know? How did you know my dad had been possessed?”

Castiel shrugs, brushing some dust off of his slacks. “Azazel had been concealing his true face from me, but it shone through when he saw Michael’s blade. He ‘forgot himself’, so to speak,” he explains, curling his fingers around the words. “It’s either that or he showed himself on purpose to taunt me.”

“Anything’s possible, I guess…”

Dean sighs, now with his gaze on the cloudy skies. Castiel follows his gaze, a thin smile on his lips.

“Tell them it was me,” he says after some time. “Tell your mother and the children that I was the one to kill John Winchester.”

“I can’t do that, Cas.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too important for Little Dean to grow up hating you. When he meets you in the future, he’s gonna have to—”

“That might not be happening now, Dean. The way things are going, this world’s Castiel might never have to go and raise you from perdition.” They’re not looking at the clouds anymore, their eyes now locked together. “And if that’s the case, I’m worried this world’s Castiel may not be someone the kids will want to associate with anyway. Not if he’s to follow the same path the Apocalyptic World’s version of me did.”

Dean offers Castiel a crooked smile and bumps their shoulders together.

“Well, buddy… wouldn’t that be a damn shame?” he says before tearing his eyes away to look up at the sky again.


	20. Chapter 20

After having lunch with Bobby, the brothers decide they’d rather not wait to cross over, and Castiel agrees with them. Waiting for John’s body to lose some of its stiffness wouldn’t make that much of a difference in the end; they still have to haul a dead body back into their world and rolling him around will make things much easier. They only hope they won’t be spat back out too far from the bunker.

Castiel is preparing the spell ingredients, Bobby standing close to him. He wants to learn how to do it, even though he doesn’t believe he’ll ever be able to find himself some archangel grace. “Even more difficult than finding a damn dreamwalker, this I’m sure,” he says, to which Castiel has to agree.

Sam and Dean are further away, busy securing their father to the chair. They’re mostly worried they might lose him as they cross over if they don’t. Castiel makes sure that they’re not paying attention to him before addressing Bobby in a hushed voice.

“If Mary decides to come back to this world with the kids, can I tell her to call you?”

Bobby also keeps an eye on the brothers as he answers. “Why would she wanna do that? I mean… this is not her world and John’s dead.”

“If the young Sam and Dean don’t come back to this universe, then the apocalypse might just fall upon you all. Mary knows that, I know that, and…” He discreetly points his chin at the brothers still not paying attention to them. “And they know that. They’d rather she wouldn’t leave, but I don’t think they’ll be able to dissuade her. She knows what’s at stake.”

“Then you tell her to come here with her kids. I’ll help her start up her life in any way that she needs.” Sadness is now clouding his features. “I owe John as much. Doesn’t matter how much of an idjit he could be sometimes, I’ll still miss him a whole lot.”

Castiel can’t help but smile at the man’s words. “Thank you, Bobby. Mary Winchester is a great woman and a fabulous hunter, I’m certain you’ll like her as well.”

Bobby only nods back, Sam and Dean now pushing the chair back toward them. “Dad’s secure,” Deans says through gritted teeth. “Is the spell ready?”

“It is,” Castiel confirms as he prepares to open the rift.

When Sam goes in to hug Bobby, he stops when the gruff man gives him a confused frown back. “Sorry,” he says as he takes a step back. “I keep forgetting you don’t really know us.”

“Yeah… our Bobby… as I said before, he was kind of a father figure to us,” Dean adds, also itching to go and hug the man. Doesn’t matter that he’s younger than him right now, he’ll always be Uncle Bobby to him. Still, Dean offers him his hand to shake instead, which the man takes with a relieved smile.

“Sorry, guys… not much of a hugger is all,” Bobby offers as an excuse as he shakes Sam’s and Castiel’s hands next. They all know that’s a bunch of crap, but the man’s only known them for a couple of days, so it’s understandable that he’d have reservations.

The next second, Castiel is pouring some grace over the other ingredients as he recites the incantation, holding the gem to point toward the back of the salvage yard.

“ _ Mah ray, fah doh, em lah! Kah day, em lah! Kah day, em lah! Mah ray, fah doh, em lah! Kah day, em lah! Kah day, em lah! _ ”

A spear of orange light soon appears before them; the rift is open and should be leading them back home, thanks to the hair Sam donated for the cause.

“How long’s that thing gonna stay open?” Bobby asks.

“It should stay open for twenty-four hours,” Sam says as he stands next to his brother and father. “And you might wanna keep an eye on it, just so nobody crosses over by mistake.”

Castiel is already next to the rift, ready to go. He makes sure to catch Bobby’s gaze and nods. Bobby nods back, ever so slightly.

“You guys be safe out there, ya hear?” he says.

Sam smiles, taking a step toward the rift. “Same to you, Bobby. Hopefully, your world will now be the safest of them all. Maybe you’ll even be able to stop hunting if that’s what you wanna do.”

Bobby laughs at that, shaking his head. “That one big bad may be gone, but there’s still a whole lot of monsters out there. You know I ain’t ever stoppin’.”

Nobody bothers to try and contradict him, mostly because they know he’s right. Instead, they wave him goodbye and enter the rift, John being the first with Dean rolling him through. Sam and Castiel soon follow, landing near some nondescript gravel road bordering thick woods.

“So, Cas? What say you?” Dean asks when they’ve appeared next to him.

Once he’s found his footing, Castiel closes his eyes to situate himself while Sam quirks an eyebrow at his brother, taking his phone out to see that it has bars.

“We’re still in South Dakota… almost all the way down to Nebraska,” Castiel announces.

“A little over an hour South of Sioux Falls,” Sam confirms. “I think we should call Jody. I mean…” He juts his chin at John and the chair. “We’ll never be able to find anyone to give us a ride with him.”

“Quit being such a Debbie Downer, Sammy… we can totally  _ Weekend At Bernie’s _ the hell outta Dad if we want it bad enough.” And, okay, Dean knows that joke is in poor taste, so he glosses over the bitchface his brother sends him back. “No, you’re right. Jody’s our best bet here,” he eventually agrees.

Castiel goes to stand next to Dean and John while Sam dials the sheriff’s number.

“Sheriff Mills!” she answers. Her voice alone is enough to fill Sam with ease. He puts the phone on speaker as he comes to stand closer to the others.

“Hey, Jody… Sam here. I’m with Dean and Cas.”

“Hey, Jody,” they both say together, to which Jody replies in kind.

“What can I do for you boys? Are you in the area?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Sam says with a chuckle. “We’re about an hour South of Sioux Falls and… we kinda need a ride back home.”

“What’s wrong with the Impala? Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine, Jody. The Impala’s at the bunker. We—” Sam looks at his brother, who takes over.

“We’ve spent a couple of days in another universe again, and now we’re back. We’d find a way, except… we’ve brought someone back with us and we’d rather not call Mom for this. Think you can help?”

“Of course. I’m just glad to know you guys aren’t hurt or anything.” She pauses to let out a thoughtful hum before speaking again. “Whoever you’re bringing back with you, are they dangerous? Do I need to bring special weapons or something?”

“No. Just make sure there’s enough room in the truck for a wheelchair and the person sitting on it,” Sam says. “I’ll text you the coordinates, all right? We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“All right, send me what you got and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

When she hangs up, Sam does the same and sighs. “Maybe we should have told her who the extra passenger is. I mean… it might creep her out.”

“Jody’s a big girl, Sammy. She can handle driving a corpse around in her cruiser for a couple of hours,” Dean answers, only to shake his head when he realizes what he just said. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—”

“I know. Don’t worry about it, Dean… we’re good.”

Dean gives his brother a grateful nod as he sits on the ground next to the chair. It’s like he can’t bear the idea of being even remotely removed from his father’s vicinity. Sam kind of feels the same and he goes to sit on the other side of the chair. As for Castiel, he elects to sit facing the three of them.

“Maybe we should call Mary,” Castiel says after a while, already with his phone in hand.

“And tell her what? That we’re waiting for Jody to pick us and our dead dad up?”

“She has to know, Dean.”

“And she will… all in due time.”

Silence falls on them again. Castiel’s gaze goes from Dean to Sam, who looks deep in thought. He’s about to ask him what’s on his mind when Sam speaks, looking in the distance as he does.

“What about the kids?”

“What, what about the kids?” Dean asks back, leaning forward to look at his brother on the other side of the chair.

“Maybe the kids should be given some kind of heads up or something. I mean, don’t you think it’s gonna be a shock to see us come back with…” He stops, waving at John.

“Jeez, Sam… what? You seem to think I’m gonna roll Dad in the library, pull the blanket and be all… ta-dah!”

Sam pinches his lips, far from amused. Not that Dean is either. “Of course not, but… if we told Mom, maybe she could break the news gently to the kids before we get there.”

“Sam’s not wrong, Dean,” Castiel provides, which only serves in getting him to be scowled at.

Still, Dean doesn’t counter his brother’s arguments and shakes his head as he takes his own phone out.

“All right, but I’m telling her.” He glances at his father’s form and gets up. “I’m the one that gets to tell my mom I killed my dad,” he throws over his shoulder in a thick voice, walking away to make the call in a semi-private manner.


	21. Chapter 21

The drive back to Lebanon is a silent one. While Dean hasn’t said a single word since the moment he hung up with his mother, the others haven’t found anything to say after greeting Jody and profusely thanking her for helping them.

And even though Jody has multiple questions in mind, she doesn’t dare to ask. Learning of the extra passenger’s identity – and how not alive he was – had been enough to know now wasn’t the time. It didn’t matter that the man in the chair was not this world’s John Winchester, his passing still felt like a tragedy.

The only question she had dared to ask was to know if Mary knew about it. Sam had confirmed that she did, and Jody had only nodded back at him, understanding. She looked on as the brothers loaded the man and his chair in the back of her truck, but it was she who secured everything with bungee cords and made sure the blanket wouldn’t slip off.

Now, Jody is driving with Dean sitting next to her. He ignores her and the other two sitting in the back, keeping his gaze out the side window as day turns into night. Even when they stop to get some coffee, Dean doesn’t answer his brother when he asks if he’d like something to drink.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Castiel tells Sam as they wait to pay inside the  _ Gas-N-Sip _ . He keeps his gaze on Jody who’s cleaning up the windshield with a squeegee. “Do you think Mary said things… like… hurtful things to Dean? Is that why he looks so broken?”

Sam doesn’t know, and he doesn’t feel like trying to guess why his brother might be acting this way, so he just shrugs. Castiel nods, crestfallen, but doesn’t insist. They’ll know soon enough, within the next couple of hours, if things are irredeemably broken between Dean and his mother.

The answer comes a little sooner than that, Jody having done all she could to get back to the bunker quickly while keeping everyone remotely safe. After parking in the garage and shutting the engine off, she turns to see Dean looking straight ahead, his face having blanched significantly.

Jody follows his gaze to see Mary waiting for them near the door leading inside the bunker, her arms crossed over her chest. Even from that far, Jody can see that Mary has been crying. When she starts walking toward the struck, Jody hears Dean’s breath hitch.

“Dean?” she says, softly.

For the first time since they left South Dakota, he looks back at her. The pain in his eyes is enough to make a lump appear in her throat. Before she can reach out to put a soothing hand on his shoulder, he gives her a soft nod and a tight smile. He’ll be okay.

She nods back at him and opens her door to get out, Castiel and Sam doing the same. Dean is the last to step out of the vehicle, keeping his gaze on anything but his mother as he does. Jody braces herself when Mary’s pace hastens to come and take her oldest son in her arms.

That’s the moment Dean breaks, letting out a choked sob as he wraps himself around his mother.

“I’m so—I’m so sorry, Mom—I never wanted—I had no choice—I—”

“Shh, I know, Honey. I know.” Whatever else Mary says to her son is lost to everyone else but Dean. After glancing at one another, Jody and Castiel make their way into the bunker. Sam doesn’t follow them, soon beckoned by his mother to come and join his brother in her embrace. Doesn’t matter that it’s easier for him to wrap his arms around the two of them, it’s still Mary comforting her sons.

“John is back there?” Mary asks after a while. It’s all it takes to break the spell and the three get out of each other’s holds.

“Yeah… we thought the kids should be there for… you know…”

Mary nods, well aware of what Sam is not saying. She scrunches her nose, obviously not too thrilled about the idea. “They’re so little,” she says, her gaze on the shrouded form in the back of the truck. “Plus… their mom… she burned in that house.” She bristles, remembering how she herself went through that very same ordeal. “I’m worried about Little Dean, mostly. He remembers what happened. Sam is still young enough, he might not even remember his dad when he’s older.”

Dean nods, wiping the tears as he brushes a hand over his face. He knows Little Dean remembers everything because he himself does. He also remembers all the nightmares he’s had as a kid. Is it really worth it to put him through that shit again, only with his dad this time?

“Did you tell ’em?” he asks, thinking that maybe they should just go and burn John’s body without involving the kids.

“I did,” Mary says, giving both her sons an apologetic look. “They had to know. Sammy—Sammy doesn’t really get it. He mostly takes his cues from his big brother.” A sad smile appears on her lips. “And my little Dean is being so brave,” she says, curling a hand over Dean’s cheek. “He cried, but I mean… who wouldn’t? His father’s never coming back.”

Mary chokes up at that but doesn’t cry again. She takes a deep breath and nods. “We will give John the funeral he deserves. We will honor him, and his sons will be there with him. They need this just as much as I do,” she says, her tone unequivocal.

“Hey… they’re basically your kids, Mom. It’s for you to decide,” Sam says, wrapping an arm over her shoulders to give her a sympathetic side hug.

She looks up at him, once more with a serious look on her face. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Sam. Because that’s how I feel as well.” She then looks at Dean. “I know you boys might not agree, but I’m convinced it’s my duty to raise them, especially now that their dad is gone. And I can’t do this here. They—we—we have to go back to that other world.”

“But, Mom—”

“I’m not asking you, Dean… I’m telling you. The kids have to go back, and I’ll be going with them. They’re orphans, someone has to take care of them.”

“What if—”

“Dean…”

Dean turns to his brother who looks about to cry again. “You know Mom’s right. You know what will happen to that world if the kids stay here. And we can’t send them back alone, they need their mother.”

No matter how hard he tries, Dean can’t find a single argument that could make Mary decide to stay with them. Mostly because he knows that she’s right when she says that she has to go. Still, the hurt is there, and it runs deep. Since Amara brought Mary back, Dean felt as if his mother did all she could to keep as far as possible from them. First with the British Men of Letters, then by considering staying in the Apocalyptic World rather than coming back.

He’d been able to convince her otherwise then, but he knows he won’t be able to this time. He can feel it, deep in his gut; Mary Winchester has been given a second chance to raise her family and nothing in this world will ever convince her not to take it.

Dean lets out a dispirited breath. “The rift is still open,” he says, daring to look his mother in the eye again. “It’ll stay that way for another sixteen hours or so. If you’re gonna go, then you should go before it closes. You’ll be landing right into Bobby Singer’s yard, in Sioux Falls. He’s the best person to help you once you’re there.”

He almost starts bawling once more when he sees his mother’s eyes fill up with tears. “Really?” she says. “You’re letting me go?”

“Come on, Mom! Like we could stop you,” Sam says, half amused. “We’ll miss you like crazy, but the kids… they need you much more than we do.”

She nods, traveling a thankful gaze between Sam and Dean. A single tear spills on her cheek and she wipes it, chuckling. “It’s not like we can never cross over to visit, right?”

And even though they know this is unlikely to happen, both Dean and Sam nod as they hug their mother again. It’s Dean who moves away first, now wearing a falsely confident smile on his face.

“You gotta remember that it’s 1986 over there. Which means, there’s no internet… not yet, anyway.” He snaps his fingers, his smile genuine now. “Hey, you could be amazingly rich, Mom. Find a way to buy Apple stocks, all right? Sam, you think you could tell Mom what she should be investing into? I mean… if they have enough cash, they won’t need to do credit card scams and shit.”

“What? You want me to give her a list of winning lottery numbers, too? I mean, if they’re gonna be cheating…”

“That’s not cheating, dude. Much more legal than stealing credit or hustling pool, don’t you think?” He turns to Mary. “Right?”

Dean can’t help the swell of his heart when he spots the crooked smile his mother is trying to repress. “If we don’t have money to worry about, I guess it would be helpful. As long as the winning numbers in this world correspond to the ones over there, I mean. There have to be jackpots that haven’t been won that we could use, right?”

“Then it’s settled,” Dean says, clapping his brother’s back. “Sam’s gonna put that big ol’ brain of his to use and give you all you need so you can get everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”


	22. Chapter 22

The bunker is soon filled with a sentiment of urgency. When the three Winchesters join Jody, Castiel, and Jack in the library, they quickly explain the situation. And as they do, Mary doesn’t have to ask Jody to drive her and the kids back to the rift, she offers it herself on the sole condition that she can take a nap before they leave again.

Of course, Mary agrees, Castiel even offering the room he considers his but rarely ever uses. With her gone to bed, Sam takes his computer to start preparing a document for Mary, one that would contain all the information he can think of about the Apocalypse. That and every other little thing that should help her and her kids earn a living in a somewhat legal fashion.

While Castiel opts to help Sam, the others go outside to gather wood and start working on erecting a pyre for John. Dean, Mary, and Jack work silently, the task rendered difficult by the lack of light due to an overcast night sky. This is the only reason the pyre isn’t as big as it should have been. When Dean and Jack transport John Winchester to lay him on it, it’s about twelve hours before the rift is set to close.

They go back inside, morose, to join Sam and Castiel in the library. Castiel looks up and sighs when he notices the looks on their faces.

“He’s ready?” he asks, to which Dean only nods. “Would you like some coffee? Unless… would you rather be drinking alcohol?”

“I could go for something stronger than coffee,” Mary responds in place of her son, to which Castiel nods.

He goes to get glasses and the bottle of  _ Maker’s Mark _ from the kitchen. Once back in the library, he pours everyone a glass – even Jack – then sits back in his chair. They all take a sip, the only noise surrounding them the soft clattering of Sam’s fingers on his laptop.

“I think you should pray to me, Mary,” Castiel says after some time. “To the Castiel in the alternate universe, I mean.”

“Why?”

Castiel shrugs, shutting the lid of his own computer – which is actually Dean’s. “I’ve met my counterpart in the Apocalyptic World, and he’s not a good person. Well… he’s not a good angel would be more accurate. I can’t say for sure what happened to him, but he looked broken, as if—” He stops, shaking his head, then looks up at the brothers while still addressing Mary. “Meeting your sons and getting to work with them, it made me infinitely better. Plus, you’ll need one of us angels on your side. If everything goes well, I won’t get—I mean, the other Castiel won’t get to pull the Righteous Man from the depths of Hell.”

“Didn’t you say you believed the other Castiel would have killed you if he’d known you crossed over?” Dean asks, confused. “What makes you think that he won’t go and do the same thing to her? She’s not even supposed to be alive, Cas.”

Castiel looks back at Mary. “Tell him to take on your memories, Mary.” As he says this, he gets up and walks around the table to stand next to her. “Would you mind that I added my own memories to yours?” He hears Sam and Dean gasp behind him. “Not all my memories, of course,” he explains in a calming voice. “Only those relevant to my time with Sam and Dean.”

Mary catches her sons’ gazes and nods at them before looking back at Castiel. “Do what you think is best,” she says, then closes her eyes when Castiel’s fingers brush against her temple. He only keeps them there for a second, Mary swaying in her chair when he moves away from her.

“Mom? You okay?” Sam asks.

She opens her eyes. “I’m good,” she says, then looks up at Castiel, frowning. “All those things you did… are you sure you want the other Castiel to know about it?”

“I do. How else is he going to know how not to repeat my mistakes?”

“You wouldn’t be you without those mistakes, Cas,” Sam argues, to which Dean scoffs.

“Pretty sure we all could have done without Cas letting the Leviathans in, or being God, breaking your melon, or working with Metatron to make the angels fall,” Dean says back, then catches Castiel’s shameful expression. “Just sayin’…”

“I know,” Castiel says. “If I could turn back time, I’d do none of those things again. Which is why I gave the memories to your mother, so she’ll warn him.”

Dean nods, deep in thoughts. “And what about Jimmy? Is he still gonna be an angel condom? No offense, but it pretty much destroyed his family.”

Castiel lets out an irritated breath. “I don’t know, Dean. Probably… if it’s his destiny to—”

“Bullshit, Cas! You just gave Mom all those memories so your other self won’t make the same mistakes you did. I’d say fucking up Jimmy’s life, and his wife’s and kid’s in the process, is another mistake he could avoid making.”

“Enough!”

Castiel and Dean are both startled by Mary’s outburst. “I think we have more pressing matters at the moment. We still need to send John to his last respite, and then Jody’s gotta drive us back to the rift.” She looks down at her watch and sighs. “Ten hours… that’s all we got left. Could we spend at least the next couple of hours without me having to listen to you boys bickering?”

“I agree,” Castiel says. “Still, if you ever speak to Castiel, maybe tell him to try and find another vessel? One that doesn’t have as much to lose, maybe?”

Mary nods, appreciative, then gets up to her feet. “I’ll go get the kids. I think it’s time.”

Nothing more needs to be said for everyone to understand. As she walks out to go back to her room, Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Jack get up to make their way outside.

“You think we should see if Jody wants to join?” Sam asks as they climb the stairs to the front door.

“It’s not like she knew him,” Dean counters. “I say we let her sleep. She has to drive all the way back to Sioux Falls in the morning.”

Not another word is said until they reach the pyre. John is still on top of it, hidden under the gray blanket they’d taken from the Alternate Impala. The thought makes Dean suck in a breath.

“What?” asks Sam.

“The Impala… can’t forget to tell Mom Bobby’s got the Impala.” Then he winces. “Shit… we told Bobby to keep an eye on the rift so nothing crosses into his world. Don’t think he knows what Mom looks like.”

“But he knows the kids,” Sam says, knowing what his brother means. “He won’t go and shoot them.”

“Bobby knows Mary is coming back,” Castiel says. The brothers turn to him, perplexed. “I told him to expect her and the kids,” he explains. “You had to know she’d want to cross over with her children, right? You can’t be all that surprised.”

Dean sighs, then shrugs. “No, I guess we’re not. So, Bobby knows?”

“Let’s say he expects it. Either through that same rift or later. He said he’d help your mother settle in this new world.”

Dean nods, followed by Sam. Being sent back directly to Bobby has to be the best thing that could ever happen to Mary. Plus, she’s already met a version of him, so he won’t be that much of a stranger to her.

“Mom’s got her own key for the bunker,” Sam says after a while. “You think she’ll wanna set up there in the other world or…?”

“Or is she gonna live on the road like Dad did?” Dean finishes for him. “I don’t know, Sammy. I really wish she’d stop and settled down, but it’s in her blood. There’s no way she won’t keep hunting.”

“I don’t know what I’ll be doing,” they hear Mary say behind them. They all turn to see her walking toward them, Little Sam set on her hip as she holds Little Dean’s hand. Both boys are sniffling, which could be from being woken up as much as for what’s about to transpire. “I might wanna set up shop in the other world’s bunker, seeing as it’s safe from pretty much any type of creature. Plus, the kiddos are gonna have to go to school, so moving around all the time is anything but practical.”

She gives a watery smile to her older sons. “I won’t let my boys be raised on the road like you were. And if I have to stop hunting, then that’s what I’ll do.” She looks back at the younger ones, still smiling. “They deserve better than that. They deserve to be safe and happy.”

She looks back up, this time to address the body resting on the pyre. “John… I know you did your best. Just like my John did his best. I mean, our sons became extraordinary men, and they saved the world more times than I can count. All I hope is to be able to do half as good a job with your own children. May you rest in peace, John Winchester.”

Tears are streaming down her cheeks when she nods at Dean who’s just doused the pyre with gasoline. He nods back at her then takes a couple of steps back before throwing his zippo onto the base.


	23. Chapter 23

It’s about two hours later when Jody joins them outside. She doesn’t say a word, mostly because there isn’t much she could say.

Mary is sitting on the ground with Little Sam sleeping in her lap, Little Dean sitting next to her with his gaze on the fire. When he spots Jody, he gives her a suspicious once over then turns to his mother.

“Who’s the lady, Mommy?”

Mary glances up and smiles at Jody before looking back at her son. “This is Jody Mills, Dean. She’s a sheriff and is a great friend of Big Sammy and Big Dean.” She ignores her older sons scoffing at her. “She’s also a good friend of mine… I think.”

Jody comes closer and crouches down to speak to Little Dean. “We are… me and your mom, we’re friends and we also work together to hunt monsters, just like your daddy did.”

“You know my dad?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I never got to meet him. But I’m sure I would have liked him a whole lot, though.”

When the brothers scoff again, she too ignores them, keeping her attention on the young boy. “I had a son about your age, once,” she says, a soft smile on her lips. “You remind me of him.”

“Where is he now?”

She swallows the lump in her throat. “He got really sick, and then he passed away. I miss him a whole lot.”

Little Dean looks back at the fire with a thoughtful pout. “I’ll ask my dad to find your son in Heaven so he can take care of him for you, okay? Mommy says that we can talk to the people after they died. They can’t answer, but they can still hear us.”

“I’d like that very much, Dean. Thank you.” Jody pets the little boy’s head and gets back up to join the others closer to the pyre. “You really were the most adorable kid, Dean… sucks that it didn’t stay that way,” she says as she bumps her shoulder with Dean’s.

He looks back at her, smirking. “I’m fucking adorable, Jody. Dunno what the hell you’re talking about.”

She smiles fondly at him then looks at her watch and sighs. “There’s only about eight hours left to get to the rift. I really think we should be leaving soon. Can’t take the chance to have it close before they can enter it.”

“Even if it did, we could make another one,” Dean provides, secretly hoping his mother would change her mind, or at least decide to wait a bit longer before leaving.

“We know where and when this rift leads to. Making a new one would make their destination uncertain, to say the least,” Castiel says, only to be scowled at by Dean. He rolls his eyes in retaliation. “Not saying it couldn’t be done, Dean. I just mean it wouldn’t be as practical as the one that’s already there.”

“I know,” Dean only says back. He knows he’s kind of being an ass, yet he can’t stop himself. He’s just lost his father for the second time in his life, and now he’s about to lose his mother for the second time too. Well, the third time, actually. Nobody should have to lose the people they love even once, let alone twice.

He can’t decide between laughing or crying at the memory of Sam and Castiel both dying more than once or twice. And then Sam had had to witness him dying about a hundred times thanks to Gabriel. He shakes his head, the weight of everything back on his shoulders as if it’s never left him in the first place.

Dean turns to hug Jody. “You’re gonna call us when they’ve crossed over, right?” he says next to her ear. She returns the hug and nods against his shoulder.

“Of course.”

She gets out of his hold to go hug Sam, Castiel, and Jack. She then goes to Mary and offers to take Little Sam to bring him into her truck. Mary gives her a grateful nod and gets up once her son is off her lap. She pulls Little Dean by the hand as she goes to hug the men.

“I can never thank you enough for what you did, boys.” She holds a hand up when she sees Dean about to contradict her. “I mean it, Dean. You did what you had to do, and I’ll never hold you responsible. You understand me?”

“What did he do, Mommy?”

Mary glances at Little Dean and smiles. “Big Dean found your daddy and brought him back to us. If he hadn’t done that, we couldn’t have said goodbye to him.” As she speaks, Mary keeps an insistent gaze on her oldest son; Little Dean would never get to know it was his older counterpart who killed his dad. Dean nods, both understanding and grateful.

Nothing more needs to be said. Mary hugs her sons, which includes Castiel and Jack, before taking Little Dean in her arms. No matter how much the child had insisted before that he wasn’t little, he wraps himself around his mom to hide his face in her neck.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye, Dean?” she asks, rubbing a soothing hand on his back. He barely lifts his head to mumble “Bye!” before hiding his face again. “Thank you again, boys. And thanks again for the intel, Sammy. I’ll do my very best to keep our world from turning into hell.”

“If you ever need our help—”

“I can come back and ask you, I know. Same with you, if you ever need our help…” She winks at Sam and Dean who both nod back at her, a tight smile on their lips. Once again, they all know those are empty words. Still, they need to be said and heard, if only to make the separation less painful.

“Come on, Mom. Let’s walk you to the car,” Sam says as he places a gentle hand in the small of his mother’s back. Without a word, Dean, Castiel, and Jack follow them inside. On the library table is a couple of duffle bags – Mary’s and the kids’ – plus a filing box filled to the brim with notebooks and all the Carver Edlund books they had bought back in the day. All except the one about the racist ghost truck because Dean believes no mother should read about her son doing the things he does in that book.

Dean picks up the box while Sam and Castiel each grab a duffel bag to go back into the garage. When Jody sees them coming, she opens the back door so Mary can put Little Dean in the back seat. He lets her fasten his seatbelt, his eyes droopy. There’s no doubt that he’ll be fast asleep before they even reach the highway.

The guys put the bags and box in the back, Dean shutting the hatch delicately so it won’t startle the kids. They go to the front, Mary and Jody already sitting inside with their windows down.

“You’ll take good care of yourselves, right?” Mary says, cupping a hand over Sam’s cheek. Her hand is trembling a little, so he wraps his own hand over hers to try and soothe her.

“You know us,” Dean says, winking at her. “Nothing can bring us down.”

She gives him back a sad smile, equally amused and heartbroken. She cups her other hand over Dean’s jaw and sighs. “I’m so proud of you both,” she says. Now it’s her voice that’s unsteady and she needs to clear her throat to keep going. “I now consider myself a mother of four…” She blinks, then glances at Castiel and Jack standing a little further.

“Who am I kidding! I’m a mother of six,” she corrects herself, tears ready to spill again.

Dean also wraps a hand over his mother’s as he leans into the cab to kiss her cheek. He lets her go as Sam comes in to kiss her too. Castiel and Jack stay back, waving at her while Jody starts up the engine.

The men stay there to watch as Jody drives out of the garage. Once the doors to the tunnel close, silence falls upon them, heavy and thick.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Dean says, only to wince when the words echo back to him. He looks at his watch. “Within about six hours, Mom should be landing in 1986 Sioux Falls. It’ll almost be as if she’s never left in the first place.”

He glances at his brother to see him with his gaze still on the door, his jaw set tight.

“Sammy? You okay?”

Now biting at his lower lip, Sam nods, letting his gaze fall to the floor. “Yeah… I—I think I’m gonna go to bed… kinda beat. Night!”

Without waiting for anyone to answer, Sam leaves the garage in long strides. When the door slams shut behind him, Dean notices Jack flinching.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Jack asks Dean, looking at him with his eyes set wide.

“Yeah, kiddo… Sam’s gonna be fine. He just needs a second to breathe.”


	24. Chapter 24

Unlike his brother, Dean doesn’t feel the urge to go to bed that night. And even if he kind of needs to not be alone right now, he also doesn’t want to talk. Castiel and Jack seem to understand that, so they just quietly sit with him in the kitchen for the full five hours it takes for Jody to call them.

When he sees the sheriff’s name appear on his phone, Dean finds himself hesitating. He knows what she’ll tell him and he doesn’t feel ready to hear it. It’s Castiel who takes the phone to swipe his finger to answer. He then puts the device on speaker, his gaze on Dean who sighs and nods at him.

“Hello, Jody,” Castiel says.

“Cas? I called Dean’s phone… is he okay?”

“I’m here, Jody… you’re on speaker. Jack’s here too.”

“Where is Sam?”

“He went to bed right after you guys left.” Dean pauses, unable to bring himself to ask what he already knows. He artfully ignores the flicker of hope at the thought that Mary could have changed her mind on her way over there.

Somehow, Jody seems to have picked up on that. “Your mom and the kids have crossed over, Dean. I wish I could have helped change her mind, but—”

“But you’re a mom,” Dean concludes for her. “You know she needs to do this. Hell, even I know she needs to do this and I ain’t got kids of my own.” In saying that he ignores how, for the longest time, he kinda felt like Sam was his child. To some extent, anyway. And maybe he still does, if he’s being totally honest.

Dean sighs, sending a sad glance toward Castiel who sends him a similar one. His expression transforms into a comforting one as he takes over the conversation.

“Hello, Jody… Castiel again. Thank you for letting us know, we really appreciate it.” He looks at the time displayed on Dean’s phone before talking again. “I trust the rift is still open?”

“It is. And it should be open for another couple of hours, right?”

“One… maybe two, at the most. Do you think—”

“I’m not going anywhere until it closes. Got myself some coffee and breakfast, so I’ll keep an eye on it. You don’t need to worry about anything crossing over here.”

“Thanks, Jody. For everything,” Dean says, able to speak again. “If you ever need anything—”

“I know, Dean. Now, I think you boys should take your time before getting back out there, you know? Your mother may not be dead, you’ll still need to grieve her absence. It’s not like you can call or visit each other all that much, can you?”

“I know.”

“And I’m always here for you and your brother if you ever need to talk.”

“Thanks, Jody… we’ll be okay, though, I swear. Like you said, we’ll take a bit of time to process all of it and then it’ll be business as usual. Good as new!”

“All right… Cas? You’ll make sure they do just that, won’t you?” she still asks, which makes a fond smile appear on the angel’s lips.

“I’ll do my best, but you know as well as I do that there’s no telling a Winchester what to do.”

“I know. I also know you’ll try, and that’s good enough for me,” she replies, just as fondly. “All right, I’ll let you go now. You really should go to bed, Dean. It’ll help.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that soon. Bye, Jody… and thanks again,” Dean says before hanging up the phone. He looks down at his cup of coffee and snorts. Like hell, he’s going to bed.

He takes his cup to empty it in the drain and rinse it under the tap. He then opens a new bottle of whiskey to fill the cup about halfway. He comes back to the table, making sure to bring the bottle along, and sits back where he’d been before.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?” Castiel asks, frowning.

“Haven’t gone to bed yet, so no… it’s just very, very late in the previous day,” he replies, smug, before drinking the whole content of his cup in huge gulps. No matter how used to it he should be, Dean winces at the burn of the alcohol as it glides down his esophagus. He’s even coughing a bit as he pours some more whiskey in his cup. He tilts the bottle toward Castiel. “Want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“Can I have some?” Jack asks as he pushes his own cup forward. Before Castiel can say anything against it, Dean shrugs and pours a bit of the liquor in. “Thanks.”

“Dean…”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, Cas. If he’s gonna drink, I’d rather he do it in the house,” he says, a wide grin splitting his face in two. He rolls his eyes again when Castiel clearly doesn’t get the  _ Mean Girls _ reference. Didn’t Metatron shove a whole bunch of movies in his brain?

“I’m gonna go watch some cartoons. Is that okay?” Jack asks Castiel who looks tempted to slap the cup from his hand. He doesn't and nods, prompting Jack to leave him and Dean alone.

“I’m not sure we should be letting Jack drink this much alcohol, Dean. He’s had some earlier and technically, he’s not even two years old.”

“Well, he doesn’t look it. Pretty sure he can handle a bit of booze here and there, you know.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything more on the subject, mostly because he knows that conversation in a dead end. Castiel’s own history of decision making hasn’t been all that great, so he can hardly go and tell others how to act or think.

“How are you holding up?” he asks instead. The hunter looks up at him and shrugs, showing off his cup.

“Holdin’ up just fine. You?”

“I’m okay, but it’s not my mother who left, Dean. It’s yours.” He pauses, lost in thought. “Never had a mother. I wonder what that’s like.”

Dean shakes his head, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, well, count your blessings, buddy. Lost mine three times… doesn’t get any better.”

“I’m really sorry things had to happen this way, Dean. If I…” Castiel stops, painfully aware he has no idea what could have been done to prevent any of this.

“If you what?” Dean still asks. “I really don’t think there’s anything you could have done, man. Even if my dad hadn’t died, she would have left. She said so that very first day. The second she saw the kids, her mind was made up.”

“I know… I still wish we could have found another way.”

Dean nods, his gaze on the table top. He’s holding onto his cup with both hands, drumming his fingers on it in some rhythm Castiel fails to recognize.

They don’t speak again for some time. Not until Sam walks into the room a good hour later. He lifts a single eyebrow when he spots the bottle on the table, then goes to the percolator to pour a bit of coffee in a cup. When he comes to sit with Dean and Castiel, he enhances his coffee with some of the whiskey.

Without a word, he bumps his cup on Dean’s and Castiel’s, before looking into Castiel’s cup. He clucks his tongue before taking the bottle again to pour some in his cup as well. The angel nods his thanks, then raises his cup as he clears his throat to speak.

“To Mary Winchester. May she finally be able to live the life she was born to live,” he says, his gaze never faltering from Sam’s and Dean’s. They both have their lips pinched tight, but they still nod in unison as they raise their cups.

“Hear, hear!” they say before each taking a sip, Castiel doing the same.

Silence falls over them again, but it doesn’t feel as tense anymore. They stay seated together as they drink, none of them willing to disturb the semblance of peace cocooning them. It’s Sam who breaks it after a while as he pours himself some more whiskey.

“So… what now?”

“What now, what?” Dean asks back, now drumming his fingers on the table.

“I kinda feel like I could go and hunt something,” Sam says, trying to keep his tone on the casual side.

“Oh, thank God!” Dean lets out, relieved he hadn’t been the one to bring it up. “I’ve been itching for something to hunt, you have no idea.”

“Jody thinks that a mourning period would be beneficial. For the both of you,” Castiel counters, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“That’s a load of crap, Cas,” Dean says in a huff. “I know Jody means well, but sitting on our asses feeling sorry for ourselves isn’t the Winchester way. Never was, and never will be.”

“Dean’s right, Cas. The longer we stay here doing nothing, the worse we’ll feel.”

“Plus, Jack could use the experience.”

Sam and Dean stop talking, the both of them looking at Castiel intently. It’s not like they need his permission, but it’ll certainly be easier to have him agree with them. Their gazes never falter, not until an exasperated Castiel throws his arms in the air and rolls his eyes.

“Fine! It’s not like I could stop you.” He shakes his head, hoping to convey how aggravating he finds them. “So what, now we look for a case?”

Sam’s face splits in a grin. “I’ve already found one. So, get this…”


	25. Chapter 25

The year is 2019, and the universe is a different one.

A little over thirty years ago, Mary Winchester left behind a world she hardly knew to come back to something she once thought she’d never get to have; a time she understood and kids she recognized.

Sitting in the bunker in a room they made into a dining room years ago, she looks around the table at the people she loves; her children, their significant others, and her husband. They’re all here with her to celebrate her sixty-fifth birthday.

Sixty-five years old… shivers crawl down her spine when she has a thought for the sons she left behind so long ago. To think that by now, Dean is seventy-one years old while Sammy is sixty-seven. About the same age she and Bobby are now. And that’s if they’re still alive.

That had been another reason that helped her make the decision to cross over. Not only did this world’s kids have the need for a mother, she still had never gotten over having her own children be older than she was. Like anytime her thoughts swerved to what she left behind, her eyes begin to sting and a lump forms in her throat. She tries to swallow it, without success.

“Are you okay? Thinkin’ ’boutcha boys, aren’t ya?”

Mary turns to catch Bobby’s soft gaze on her. She cups a hand over his bearded jaw, taking comfort in the familiar and prickly warmth. 

“I am,” she admits, closing her eyes when his lips brush against her cheek. “It doesn’t matter that my kids are right here by my side, I still miss them a whole lot. Like I told them—”

“You left four kids behind, I know.”

Mary leans up to kiss her husband’s lips. “I’ll be okay,” she promises in a hush, just as Dean lets out an overly exaggerated puking sound.

“Ew! Old people makin’ out! That’s disgusting!” he hollers before throwing his head back, laughing.

“God, you’re such a child, Dean! Can’t believe you’re supposed to be the oldest one, dude,” his baby sister Melissa says, absentmindedly rubbing her eight-month pregnant belly.

“Just leave them alone, would you? I think it’s sweet,” Sloan says as she takes Sam’s hand.

“Yeah… it’s not like we’ve never been subjected to yours and Cas’s awful makeout sessions,” Sam adds, kissing his wife’s hand before blowing a raspberry at his brother.

“I said I was sorry about that, Sam,” Castiel says, sheepish. “It won’t happen again.”

Sam winks at the former angel. “I know… just messing with my jerk of a brother.”

“I’m  _ unmessable _ with… bitch!”

“Dean, I’m pretty sure that’s not a word,” Castiel says, his brows scrunched up together.

As she watches the kids bicker, Mary can feel her heart swelling. Her life as a mother hadn’t started this way, but she now feels like she did the best job she possibly could, seeing as they’re all alive and remotely happy.

She thinks back to that day when she landed in Bobby Singer’s yard, back in a time where she felt more comfortable. Of course, the other world’s 2000s had been filled with wondrous things. The Internet alone had been an amazing tool to work with, but deep down, she’d known she hadn’t been ready for that. It had been too much, too quickly, and it made her head spin on a regular basis.

And however certain she was that she had made the right choice, it still felt like her heart was being torn out of her chest when she realized her sons – the adult men she’d grown to know and love – she’d never see them again. That the ones she would herself raise would be similar, yet probably different enough to never replace them.

Even the Castiel that found his way back to the Winchesters could never replace the one she once knew. Especially when he decided to let Jimmy Novak live his life and find another willing human to wear. Which both helped and made it worse somehow.

The one she missed the most, the only one that would never see the light of day in this world, was Jack. And as long as they’d be able to stop Lucifer from being freed from his cage, Jack would no doubt remain a product of her universe of origin. And if Mary is only a little bit lucky, she’ll die without ever seeing the devil’s face again.

Melissa’s phone chirping pulls Mary from her own head and she turns to her. She grabs the hand resting next to hers to squeeze it when she sees the concerned frown on her daughter’s face. “Is that Charlie, dear? Will she be joining us?”

“Not yet. She’s having problems with the servers downstairs,” she explains before turning to Bobby. “Dad? Did you go and change the password again? Charlie says she can’t access the database.”

Her father harrumphs and shrugs. “They all say passwords need to be changed every other month. It’s real sensitive information on those things, Mellie… we can’t take any chances.”

The blond woman rolls her eyes. “Dad, you know Charlie handles that stuff, you don’t need to bother with it. Could you call her or something? I’d like for my wife to at least be with us for the cake.”

“Cake? Really, Mel? What happened to the pie?” Dean says, sounding dejected.

“Dean, it’s Mary’s birthday, and she prefers cake,” Castiel says, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. He grabs at the hunter’s chin to turn his face toward him and kiss his mouth. “You know what that pout does to me, don’t you?” he adds before kissing him again.

It doesn’t take any more than that for Dean to forget about the cake or anything else he might have been in the mood to bitch about. He smiles, accentuating the laugh lines around his eyes. “I do,” Dean admits, keeping his gaze on his boyfriend’s bright amber one as he leans forward for another kiss.

“Hey, hey, boys… if the old geezers can’t kiss, then you can’t either!” Mary says, only to be scowled at by Bobby who just hung up with Charlie.

“Old geezers… you speak for yourself, woman. I’m the better lookin’ one here!”

Everybody laughs, just not loud enough to bury the sounds now coming from the baby monitor on the table.

“Oh… I think Lil’ Johnny’s awake,” Sloan says as she gets to her feet. As she does, they hear the second baby start crying. “And he’s woken up Lil’ Robbie,” she says as she and Sam leave the room.

“How the hell does she know which is which? Even when I look at them I can’t tell them apart,” Melissa grouses. “Thank God I’ve only got one in here.”

Mary smiles, sending a hand to rub her daughter’s belly. “I’m just like you,” she admits. “I can’t tell which is which, but she’s their mom… that’s how she knows. Just like you’ll never mistake your child’s cries for another one’s.”

Melissa gives her a watery smile. The next second, a tear is trailing down her cheek and she wipes it, chuckling. “Man, being pregnant’s really turned me into a crybaby.”

“That’s ’cause you are a crybaby, berk!”

“Screw you, Dean. You’re the berk, berk!”

As the siblings’ oral joust escalates, Mary and Bobby share an aggravated, yet tender look, especially due to the sibling’s pet names for each other. They knew Dean had made it up, incapable of being as mean to his little sister as he was to his little brother. 

Still, no matter how rowdy the kids got, they knew how deeply they all loved each other. That was something Mary had been worried about when she found out she was pregnant. Dean and Sam had quickly accepted Bobby, never once disputing the growing role he had in their family. To her delight, her sons – eleven and seven at the time – had been excited at the thought of having another sibling. What didn’t go so well was learning the baby would be a girl.

To Mary’s utter relief, that hadn’t lasted long and she knew then that no other little girl in the whole world would ever have better brothers. The three grew up to be thick as thieves and Mary often wished her other sons could see the life she’d made for herself. She wished they could meet Melissa. She wished they could meet Sloan and the twins…

This time it’s the bunker’s doorbell – something else they installed years ago – that pulls her from her thoughts. She catches Bobby’s inquisitive gaze on her.

“Is anybody else supposed to come to dinner?” she asks him. He shrugs and shakes his head.

“Don’t think so.”

“I’ll go,” Melissa says as she scrambles to get out of her seat. Before she can go anywhere, she finds herself with her arms full of… Baby Johnny or Robbie, she really can’t tell.

“Let me,” Sam says, already leaving the room in long strides.

“Do you think we should go with him?” Castiel asks, already on his feet.

Dean grabs at his boyfriend’s delicate wrist to gently pull him down in a sitting position, only on his lap this time. “Sam’s a big boy… he’ll let us know if he needs us,” he says, carding a hand in Castiel’s messy afro.

At the same moment, they hear Sam yelling “Mom! Dad!”.

If Castiel hadn’t been quick to react, he probably would have found himself to be ejected from Dean’s lap. Instead, they get up as one and dash out of the dining room to run toward the front door, climbing the steps two at a time to find that Sam isn’t at the door anymore.

“Sam? Sam!”

“Dean,” Castiel says, pointing downward. Dean follows where Castiel is pointing and it’s like being struck in the gut when he sees the two kids standing there.

“What the—”

Dean looks up to see the top of his brother’s head as he disappears down the road. Without another word, he runs out after his brother. He never catches up to him, coming to a halt when he sees a man and woman disappear into a rift.

“Sam! Stop!” he screams, worried his brother will follow the strangers in. He sighs in relief when the orange spear of light vanishes before Sam can reach it. Sam stays there for a minute, unmoving, before turning around to come back to the bunker.

“You know who that was, right?” Sam says when he’s close enough to his brother. “That was our dad… I mean, our birth father. John Winchester.”

“Figured as much, seeing as younger versions of us just appeared on our doorstep.”

They don’t say another word as they make their way back inside the bunker. The kids have already been ushered inside and into the library. Little Dean is huddled against Melissa – she is the spitting image of their mother, after all – and eyeing Mary and Bobby with obvious distrust, his brother quietly sobbing against him. A little far removed are Sloan and Castiel, each with a twin in their arms.

Mary is the first one to find her voice.

“This can’t be happening again.”

“And yet, here we are,” supplies Bobby, scratching his beard.

Dean takes off his trucker cap to scratch at his scalp and sighs, looking up at his brother.

“Now what?”

“You know what…”

Dean puts his trucker cap back on. “Yup, I do. Babe?” he says, beckoning for Castiel to join them. “Call Shantel… time to go and save John Winchester’s life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand… it’s over! XD
> 
> I really hope you will have liked this little Winchester adventure. I had a blast writing it, and imagining it. I had this idea in the back of my mind for a while now, so I’m mostly glad that it’s out and I can stop thinking about it.
> 
> I’d love to know your thoughts! Mostly, thanks for reading and (leaving kudos? maybe? I don’t know, it’s not even published yet… you can say that I’m jumping the gun here! lol)
> 
> I’m sooooo needy, it’s positively sad! You can also come and say hi on Tumblr, if you’re into that sort of thing… I’m easy to find: marmeladyorange.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you have a marvelous day… see you again out there! (or in here… either way… I don’t mind) lolll


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